An inverted abyss of color,
a mound, a dome, of flake emeralds that quivered in the golden air.
And now the sun sets; the green leaves are black; the moon rises: her
cold light shoots across one half that giant stem.
How solemn and calm stands the great round tower of living wood, half
ebony, half silver, with its mighty cloud above of flake jet leaves
tipped with frosty fire!
Now is the still hour to repeat in a whisper the words of the dame of
Beaurepaire, "You were here before us: you will be here when we are
gone."
We leave the hoary king of trees standing in the moonlight, calmly
defying time, and follow the creatures of a day; for, what they were, we
are.
A spacious saloon panelled; dead but showy white picked out sparingly
with gold. Festoons of fruits and flowers finely carved in wood on some
of the panels. These also not smothered in gilding, but as it were gold
speckled here and there, like tongues of flame winding among insoluble
snow. Ranged against the walls were sofas and chairs covered with rich
stuffs well worn. And in one little distant corner of the long room
a gray-haired gentleman and two young ladies sat round a small plain
table, on which burned a solitary candle; and a little way apart in
this candle's twilight an old lady sat in an easy-chair, thinking of
the past, scarce daring to inquire the future.
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