with their countless bells.  Then they went on through fields of purple veronicas and others of geraniums, blazing with all the fiery tints of a brasier, which the wind seemed to be ever fanning into fresh heat.  And they forced their way through a jungle of gladioli, tall as reeds, which threw up spikes of flowers that gleamed in the full daylight with all the brilliance of burning torches.  They lost themselves too in a forest of sunflowers, with stalks as thick as Albine’s wrist, a forest darkened by rough leaves large enough to form an infant’s bed, and peopled with giant starry faces that shone like so many suns.  And thence they passed into another forest, a forest of rhododendrons so teeming with blossom that the branches and leaves were completely hidden, and nothing but huge nosegays, masses of soft calyces, could be seen as far as the eye could reach.

‘Come along; we have not got to the end yet,’ cried Albine.  ’Let us push on.’

But Serge stopped.  They were now in the midst of an old ruined colonnade.  Some of the columns offered inviting seats as they lay prostrate amongst primroses and periwinkles.  Further away, among the columns that still remained upright, other flowers were growing in profusion.  There were expanses of tulips showing brilliant streaks like painted china; expanses of calceolarias dotted with crimson and gold; expanses of zinnias like great daisies; expanses of petunias with petals like soft cambric through which rosy flesh tints gleamed; and other fields, with flowers they could not recognise spreading in carpets beneath the sun, in a motley brilliance that was softened by the green of their leaves.

‘We shall never be able to see it all,’ said Serge, smiling and waving his hand.  ’It would be very nice to sit down here, amongst all this perfume.’

Near them there was a large patch of heliotropes, whose vanilla-like breath permeated the air with velvety softness.  They sat down upon one of the fallen columns, in the midst of a cluster of magnificent lilies which had shot up there.  They had been walking for more than an hour.  They had wandered on through the flowers from the roses to the lilies.  These offered them a calm, quiet haven after their lovers’ ramble amid the perfumed solicitations of luscious honeysuckle, musky violets, verbenas that breathed out the warm scent of kisses, and tuberoses that panted with voluptuous passion.  The lilies, with their tall slim stems, shot up round them like a white pavilion and sheltered them with snowy cups, gleaming only with the gold of their slender pistils.  And there they rested, like betrothed children in a tower of purity; an impregnable ivory tower, where all their love was yet perfect innocence.