Page:Magdalen by J S Machar.pdf/120



ETWEEN the Elbe and the nearby forests lies an expanse of blooming meadows, and through the middle of these runs a narrow, sandy path. On that path there moved a slow and long procession of undulating parasols,—one, two, three, four, five, six,—you might have counted thirty of them. The bright toilets of the ladies gleamed in the sun, while to the right and left of them, and half turned towards them, skipped their gallants, balancing their canes.

The sun poured like fire from the blue-grey heavens upon that meadow. The earth was burning under foot. The dusky blades of grass hung down as though scorched. The flowers drooped, as though broken. Strong, heavy odors were wafted through the air. Crickets uttered their hellish din,