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ARIADNE. 161open air of the gardens. It was early morning,and the birds were astir in the thick waUs of theclipped box and ilex; blue butterflies flew overthe old Latin tombstones; lizardsraninbetweenthe blossoming orange-hedges; here and there alate-faUen fruit had tumbled,aballof gold, uponthe grass.Thesegardens aregreenvalleys fuUof fragranceand shadow;behind them,like their mountainalp,is the great dome, altering from white topiu-ple, as the day passes and the cloudschange." Tellme," she said, below her breath, as wepaced amongst the trees, "why is the Hermes"there ? Icanremember nothing, onlyWalking between the tall walls of leaf andbough,Itook courage and told her of the thingsthatIhad done and the sorrowIhad sufferedsinceIhad seen the saU upon the sea.For the first time she weptfor us,not for him." AndIam thankless— only thankless!" she"murmured. Oh, why love "me so much, youtwo for whomIhave no love!Iheard the birds singing in theVOL. III.orange-M