Over Lucy's head hung by a silk line from one of the
branches a huge globe of humble but fragrant flowers; they were, in
point of fact, fastened with marvelous skill all round a damp sponge,
but she did not know that. Thus these simple hosts honored their
lovely guest. And while these sights and smells stole into her deep
eyes and her delicate nostrils, "Fiddle, David," said Eve, loftily,
and straightway a simple mellow tune rang sweetly on the cheerful
chords--a rustic, dulcet, and immortal ditty, in tune with summer and
afternoon, with gold-checkered grass, and leaves that slumbered, yet
vibrated, in the glowing air.
A bright, dreamy hour; the soul and senses floated gently in color,
fragrance, melody, and great calm. "Each sound seemed but an echo of
tranquillity."
Lucy looked up and absorbed the scene, then closed her eyes and
listened; and presently her lips parted gradually in so ravishing a
smile, her eyes remaining closed, that even Eve, who saw her in her
true light, a terrible girl come there to burn and destroy David,
remaining cool as a cucumber, could hardly forbear seizing and
mumbling her.
In certain companies you shall see a boisterous cordiality, which at
bottom is as hollow as diplomacy; but there is a modest geniality
which is to society what the bloom is to the plum.
And this charm Lucy found in her hosts of the catalpa. For this very
reason that they were her hosts, their manner to her changed a little,
and becomingly; they made no secret that it was a downright pleasure
to them to have her there.
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