What omen was this, then, that I should meet first a phantom on my
journey? One thing only was clear: Rosinante could trust to her five
wits better than I to mine. So leaving her to take what way she
pleased, I rode on, till at length we approached the woods I had
descried. Presently we were jogging gently down into a deep and misty
valley flanked by bracken and pines, from which issued into the crisp
air of morning a most delicious aromatic smell, that seemed at least
to prove this valley not far remote from Araby.
I do not think I was disturbed, though I confess to having been a
little amazed to see how profound this valley was into which we were
descending, yet how swiftly climbed the sun, as if to pace with us so
that we should not be in shadow, howsoever fast we journeyed. I was
astonished to see flowers of other seasons than summer by the wayside,
and to hear in June, for no other month could bear such green
abundance, the thrush sing with a February voice. Here too, almost at
my right hand, perched a score or more of robins, bright-dyed,
warbling elvishly in chorus as if the may-boughs whereon they sat were
white with hoarfrost and not buds.
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