Here, prickly-leaved plants had shot to the cornices with
uncouth contorting of angled boughs, and in their inner green
ruffle-feathered birds looked down on her with the uncanny
interest of myriapods. She caught about her the lace of her skirts
and of her floating veil, and the way echoed musically to the
touch of her little sandals and was bright with the shining of her
diadem. And at the end of the passage she lifted a swaying curtain
of soft dyes and entered the King's Alcove.
The King's Alcove laid upon one the delicate demands of calm open
water--for its floor of white transparent tiles was cunningly traced
with the reflected course of the carven roof, and one seemed to look
into mirrored depths of disappearing line between spaces shaped like
petals and like chevrons. In the King's Alcove one stood in a world
of white and one's sight was exquisitely won, now by a niche open to
a blue well of sea and space, now by silver plants lucent in high
casements. And there one was spellbound with this mirroring of the
Near which thus became the Remote, until one questioned gravely
which was "there" and which was "here," for the real was extended
into vision, and vision was quickened to the real, and nothing lay
between.
Pages:
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415