Under
the soft brilliant blue of that clear sky, in the pleasant shade of
those endless rows of trees, we walked unharmed, the placid
silence broken only by the birds.
Presently there lay before us at the foot of a long hill the town
or village we were aiming for. We stopped and studied it.
Jeff drew a long breath. "I wouldn't have believed a collection
of houses could look so lovely," he said.
"They've got architects and landscape gardeners in plenty,
that's sure," agreed Terry.
I was astonished myself. You see, I come from California, and
there's no country lovelier, but when it comes to towns--! I have
often groaned at home to see the offensive mess man made in the
face of nature, even though I'm no art sharp, like Jeff. But this
place! It was built mostly of a sort of dull rose-colored stone, with
here and there some clear white houses; and it lay abroad among
the green groves and gardens like a broken rosary of pink coral.
"Those big white ones are public buildings evidently," Terry
declared.
Pages:
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58