But
none stirred, nor went, nor came. So resting my hands cautiously on a
little witch's guild of toadstools that squatted cold in shade, I
lifted myself softly and stood alert.
And in a while out of that numerous company stepped one whom by his
primrose face and mien I took to be Mounsieur Mustardseed, and I
followed after him.
VI
_Care-charming Sleep ...
... sweetly thyself dispose
On this afflicted prince!_
--JOHN FLETCHER.
Away with a blink of his queer green eye over his shoulder he
sauntered by a devious path out of the dell. Forgetful of thorn and
brier, trickery and wantonness, we clambered down after him, out of
the moonlight, into a dark, clear alley, soundless and solitary amid
these enchanted woods.
As I have said already, another air than that of night was abroad in
the green-grey shadows of the woods. Yet between the lofty and
heavy-hooded pines scarce a beam of dawn pierced downward.
Wider swept the avenue, but ever dusky and utterly silent. Deeper moss
couched here; unfallen moondrops glistened; mistletoe palely sprouted
from the gnarled boughs.
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