Athalie

"Some people were here a little while ago, looking at the flowers. I

think they must have lived here many, many years ago; perhaps when

this old house was new."

"Could you not ask them who they were?"

"No, dear."

"Why?"

"If they were what you would call 'alive' I could not intrude upon

them, could I? The laws of reticence, the respect for privacy, remain

the same. I am conscious of no more impertinent curiosity concerning

them than I am concerning any passer in the city streets."

"Have they gone?"

"Yes. But all the evening I have been hearing children at play just

beyond the garden wall.... And, when I was a child, somebody killed a

little dog down by the causeway. He is here in the garden, now,

trotting gaily about the lawn--such a happy little dog!--and Hafiz has

folded his forepaws under his ruff and has settled down to watch him.

Don't you see how Hafiz watches, how his head turns following every

movement of the little visitor?"

He nodded; then: "Do you still hear the children outside the wall?"

She sat listening, the smile brooding in her eyes.

"Can you still hear them?" he repeated, wistfully.

"Yes, dear."

"What are they saying?"

"I can't make out. They are having a happy time somewhere on the outer

lawns."

"How many are there?"

"Oh, I don't know. Their voices make a sweet, confused sound like bird

music before dawn. I couldn't even guess how many children are playing

there."

"Are any among them those children you once saw here?--the children

who pleaded with you--"

She did not answer. He tightened his arm around her waist, drawing her

nearer; and she laid her cheek against his shoulder.

"Yes," she said, "they are there."

"You know their voices?"

"Yes, dearest."

"Will they come again into the garden?"

Her face flushed deeply: "Not unless we call them."

"Call them," he said. And, after a silence: "Dearest, will you not

call them to us?"

"Oh, Clive! I have been calling. Now it remains with you."

"I did not hear you call them."

"They heard."

"Will they come?"

"I--think so."

"When?"

"Very soon--if you truly desire them," she whispered against his

shoulder.

* * * * *

Somewhere within the house the hour struck. After a long while they

rose, moving slowly, her head still lying on his shoulder. Hafiz

watched them until the door closed, then settled down again to gaze on

things invisible to men.