ARABIAN MYSTERY 



Then, in my dream, it seems that the Italian 

 garden melted away : rare spiced perfumes filled 

 the air, while from some secret place the piping 

 of a reed instrument rose and fell. " We are in 

 Africa," I said. 



We stand in a little courtyard of sand beaten 

 hard : on one side graceful pepper trees move 

 gently as the warm desert air caresses them ; on 

 the other a line of date palms gives shade, and in 

 front of us is a white wall pierced by two arches. 

 On this wall roses hang and fill the air with 

 scent, and through the arches we may see groves 

 of the feathery bamboo flickering pathways with 

 intricate arabesques of shadow. 



We walk in silence while the genius of the 

 place pipes his melancholy song hidden, and the 

 silver voice of running water seems to cool the 

 passion of the hot shadows. The scented bells 

 of datura ring out their perfumed breath as if 

 some sensuous god had brushed them as he 

 passed. The scarlet fires of the rose of Granada 

 light the deep shades, and the pure cups of arum 

 lilies show everywhere beneath the trees. 



We come at length to a clearing where, on a 

 white seat shaded by trees of geranium burning 



'3 



