The Daughter of an Empress

The good Romans therefore turned away from this garden, which threatened

them with a tax, and sought other places of recreation; while old Count

Appiani sold his garden and the ruins of his villa to the rich stranger

who had offered him so considerable a sum for them. From that day

forward every thing in the garden had assumed a different appearance.

Masons, carpenters, and upholsterers had come and so improved the villa,

within and without, that it now made a stately and beautiful appearance

amid the dense foliage of the trees. It had been expensively and

splendidly furnished with every thing desirable for a rich man's

dwelling, and the upholsterers had enough to relate to the listening

Romans of the elegant magnificence now displayed in this formerly

pitiable villa. How gladly would the former promenaders now have

returned to this garden; how gladly would they now have revisited this

villa, which, with its deserted halls and its ragged and dirty tapestry,

had formerly seemed to them not worth looking at! But their return to it

was now rendered impossible; for on the same day in which the new owner

took possession of the garden, he had brought with him more than fifty

workmen, who had immediately commenced surrounding it with a high wall.

Higher and higher rose the wall; nobody could see over it, as no

giant was sufficiently tall; no one could climb over it, as the

smoothly-hammered stones of which it was built offered not the least

supporting point. The garden with its villa had become a secret mystery

to the Romans! They yet heard the rustling of the trees, they saw the

green branches waving in the wind; but of what occurred under those

branches and in those shaded walks they could know nothing. At first,

some curious individuals had ventured to knock at the low, narrow door

that formed the only entrance into this walled garden. They had knocked

at that door and demanded entrance. Then would a small sliding window

be opened, and a gruff, bearded man with angry voice would ask what was

wanted, and at the same time inform the knocker that no one could be

admitted; that he and his two bulldogs would be able to keep the garden

clear of all intruders. And the two great hounds, as if they understood

the threats of their master, would show their teeth, and their

threatening growl would rise to a loud and angry bark.

They soon ceased to knock at that door, and, as they could not gain

admission, they took the next best course, of assuming the appearance of

not wishing it.

Four years had since passed; they had overcome the desire to enter the

premises or to look over the wall, but they told wondrous tales of

the garden and of a beautiful fairy who dwelt in it, and whose soft,

melodious voice was sometimes heard in the stillness of the night

singing sweet, transporting songs. No one had seen her, this fairy, but

she was certainly beautiful, and of course young; there were also some

bold individuals who asserted that when the moon shone brightly and

goldenly, the young fairy was then to be seen in the tops of the

trees or upon the edge of the wall. Light as an elf, transparent as a

moonbeam, she there swung to and fro, executing the singular dances

and singing songs that brought tears to the eyes and compassion to the

hearts of those who heard them. On hearing these tales, the Romans would

make the sign of the cross, and pass more quickly by the walls of this

garden, which thenceforth they called "The Charmed Garden." It was

indeed a charmed garden! It was an island of happiness, behind these

walls, concealed from the knavery of the world. Like an eternal smile of

the Divinity rested the heavens over this ever-blooming, ever-fragrant

garden, in whose myrtle-bushes the nightingales sang, and in whose

silver-clear basins the goldfishes splashed.