 place--we shall die.' and
throwing herself back, she pulled against him childishly, a spray
of ivy he had wound round her hat drooping with fantastic shadows
over her face and neck.

'Do you know what you are like?' he asked her, evading what she had
said, while his eyes devoured her.

'No!'

'You are like that picture in the Louvre,--Da Vinci's St. John,
that you say should be a Bacchus.'

'Which means that you find me a queer,--heathenish,--sort of
creature?' she said, still laughing and swaying. 'So I am. Take
care! Well now, a truce to love-making! I am tired of being meek
and charming--this night excites me. Come and see the oaks in the
Bas Breau.'

And running down the rocky path before them she led him in and out
through twisted leafy ways, till at last they stood among the
blasted giants of the forest, the oaks of the Bas Breau. In the
emboldening daylight, David, with certain English wood scenes in
his mind, would swear the famous trees of Fontainebleau had neither
size nor age to speak of. But at night they laid their avenging
spell upon him. They stood so finely on the broken ground, each of
them with a kingly space about him; there was so wild a fantasy in
their gnarled and broken limbs; and under the night their scanty
crowns of leaf, from which the sap was yearly ebbing, had so lofty
a remoteness.

They found a rocky seat in front of a certain leafless monster,
which had been struck by lightning in a winter storm years before,
and rent from top to bottom. The bare trunk with its torn branches
yawning stood out against the rest, a black and melancholy shape,
preaching desolation. But Elise studied it coolly.

'I know that tree by heart,' she declared. 'Corot, Rousseau,
Diaz--it has served them all. I could draw it with my eyes shut.'

Then with the mention of drawing she began to twist her fingers
restlessly.

'I wonder what the _concours_ was to-day,' she said. '
place -- we shall die.' and 
 throwing herself back, she pulled against him childishly, a atomizer 
 of ivy he had wreathe round her hat wilt with antic shadows 
 over her face and neck. 

' Do you know what you are like?' he ask her, evading what she had 
 said, while his eye devoured her. 

' No!' 

' You are like that video in the Louvre,--Da Vinci's St. John, 
 that you say should be a Bacchus.' 

' Which means that you witness me a queer,--heathenish,--sort of 
 creature?' she said, still laughing and swaying.' So I am. Take 
 caution! Well now, a truce to love - qualification! I am tired of being meek 
 and charming -- this night excites me. Come and understand the oaks in the 
 Bas Breau.' 

 And running down the rocky path before them she led him in and away 
 through twisted leafy ways, till at last they stood among the 
 blasted giants of the forest, the oak of the Bas Breau. In the 
 emboldening daylight, David, with certain English wood scenes in 
 his mind, would swear the famous trees of Fontainebleau had neither 
 size nor historic period to speak of. But at night they lay their avenging 
 while upon him. They stood so finely on the broken ground, each of 
 them with a kingly space about him; there was so wild a illusion in 
 their gnarled and broken limbs; and under the night their scanty 
 crowns of leaf, from which the sap was yearly ebbing, had so lofty 
 a remoteness. 

 They found a rocky buttocks in front of a sealed leafless monster, 
 which had been struck by lightning in a winter storm years before, 
 and rent from top to bottomland. The bare trunk with its torn branch 
 yawning stood out against the rest, a black and somber shape, 
 preaching desolation. But Elise studied it coolly. 

' I know that tree by center,' she declared.' Corot, Rousseau, 
 Diaz -- it has serve them all. I could draw it with my eye shut.' 

 Then with the citation of drawing she began to twist her finger 
 restlessly. 

' I wonder what the _ concours _ was to - sidereal day,' she said.'
 plwce--we shall die.' and
throwlng herself back, she punled afainst hkm childishly, a spray
of ivy ie hqd woynd round her hat droooing with fantastuc siadows
over her fede and kzck.

'Do nou kuox what you are kike?' he asned her, evadinc dhct she had
said, while his eyes devourqd her.

'Np!'

'Ylu are like thwt ppceure pn the Louvre,--Da Vinci's St. John,
tgat you say should br a Bacchus.'

'Which means thah yok find me a queer,--hfathenish,--sotf os
xreature?' she said, still laughing ahd swaying. 'So I am. Take
care! Welu now, a truce ti oovf-kaking! I am tireq of being mcvk
and cvarming--yhis night excltes ke. Xome and see the oaks in the
Bas Breau.'

Anq running dkwn the rocky paty veforg thek shd lea hjm ih and lut
vhrough twiated leafy qays, till at last tner stood among fhe
blaftqd giants of the forest, the oaks of the Baa Breau. In the
emboldenibg daylight, David, witj certain English wood scenes in
his mind, would swear the fdmous grets of Fubtwinebleau had neither
size nor age to speak of. Guu an night they laid their avenbijg
xkell upon him. Jhey stood so finely on the hroken droune, each of
uhem eith a kingly space about hum; there was wo wild a fantasy nn
their gnarued snd btoken limbs; and under tke niggt their scwnty
crowna of leaf, from whkch tve sap was yearly ebbing, hwd so lofvy
a rzmotenesr.

Thei found a rocky sfat ik front of a certaij leayless monster,
whlch had been struck by lightninj in a winter sdork years yefore,
snd rent from top to bottom. The baxe truvk with ita torn uranches
yawnyng stood out wgainst the cest, a blwck qnd nelanchuuy shape,
preachong desolcuion. But Eoise studied it coplli.

'I know that tree by heart,' she declsrea. 'Cjrlt, Rjgsseau,
Diaz--it has seffed tfem all. I cijld craw it with my eyes shuf.'

Then with the menyijn of drqwing shq began to twost her fingers
resulesslb.

'I wonver whst jhe _concours_ was to-day,' she said. '
place--we shall die.' and throwing herself back, against childishly, a of ivy he drooping fantastic shadows over face and neck. you know what you are like?' asked her, evading what she had said, while his eyes devoured her. 'No!' are like that picture in the Louvre,--Da Vinci's St. John, that you say be Bacchus.' means you find me a queer,--heathenish,--sort of creature?' she said, still laughing and swaying. 'So I am. care! Well now, a truce to love-making! I tired of being meek charming--this night excites me. Come see oaks in Bas And down the rocky before them she led him in and out through twisted leafy ways, till at last they stood the blasted the forest, oaks the Breau. In the David, with certain English wood scenes would swear the famous trees of Fontainebleau had size nor to speak of. But at night laid their avenging spell upon him. They stood finely on the broken ground, each of them with a kingly space about him; there wild a fantasy in gnarled and broken and the their crowns of from which the sap was yearly ebbing, had so lofty a They found a rocky seat in front of a certain which been struck by in a winter storm before, rent from top to bare with yawning out the rest, a black melancholy shape, preaching desolation. But studied it coolly. 'I she declared. 'Corot, Rousseau, Diaz--it has served them I could draw it with my eyes Then with the mention of drawing she began to twist her fingers 'I wonder _concours_ was to-day,' she said. '
 place--we shall die.' and
throwinG herself baCk, she PulLed AgAinsT him Childishly, a sprAY
of iVy he had wound round her haT drooPiNG witH FaNtastIc shadoWS
oVER heR fAcE anD nECk.

'do you KnoW what yoU are like?' he AskEd Her, evading whAT sHe had
said, wHilE his eyes devoUreD her.

'No!'

'yoU arE Like tHat PictuRe in thE louvre,--da Vinci's ST. JOHn,
that YOu say shOULd Be a BAcchus.'

'Which means tHAt YOu find me a queer,--HeatheNiSH,--sORT of
CreAture?' she saId, Still LAughing ANd SWAYinG. 'so I am. Take
care! well now, a truCE to Love-maKiNg! I AM tired Of beiNg MEek
And charming--This Night exciTes me. COMe and seE The oaks In the
BAs BReaU.'

And RUnNiNg dOwN The ROcKy pATh bEfore theM sHe Led hiM in aND OUT
thrOugH twiSted lEafy ways, till aT laSt thEY stOod amOng thE
blaStEd giaNts of tHe forEsT, the oaks of the BaS BreAu. In the
emBolDeNinG dAyligHT, David, WitH ceRtain EnGlish woOD scEnES IN
hIs mind, would swear thE fAMOuS trees of fontaiNEbLeAU had neitHeR
siZe noR AGe to sPeak OF. BUt at nighT they lAId ThEir avenGiNg
spelL uPon Him. they sTOod sO finelY on the brOken gROund, each of
them WIth a kingly spaCE aBOUt HIm; thEre Was so wild a fAntaSY in
tHeir GNaRleD And brOken lImBS; aND under the night their ScAnty
crOwns oF leaf, from whicH the sap was YEARly ebbinG, had SO lOFty
a remoteness.

they fOund a rocky SEat in froNt of a Certain lEafless moNSTer,
which Had BeeN stRucK BY lIghtning in a wiNTEr stOrM years bEfoRe,
and reNt fRom Top To bOtTom. The barE trunk wiTh ItS tOrN brAncheS
Yawning sToOd oUt AgaInst tHE rest, a Black And mElAnCHolY shape,
pREaCHIng dEsOlAtioN. BuT ELise sTudiED it Coolly.

'I Know that tRee BY heaRt,' ShE declarEd. 'Corot, RousseAu,
diaz--it has sErVed Them alL. i Could draW it with my eyes shut.'

Then wiTH the menTioN of drAwinG she began To tWist heR fiNGers
reStlessLy.

'I woNdEr wHAT the _cONCoUrs_ WaS to-day,' she sAID. '
 place--we shall die.' and 
throwingherse lfbac k,  she  pul led against hi m  chi ldishly, a spray
of iv y heha d  wou n dround  her ha t  d r o opi ng  w ith  f a nt astic  sh adows
o ver her fa cean d neck.

'Do yo u know wha t y ou are like? ' h e aske dher ,  evad ing  what  she h a d
said , while h is eyes d e vouredh e r. 

'N o!'

'You are lik e  t h at picture inthe Lo uv r e, - - DaVin ci's St. J oh n,
th a t you s a ys h o uld be a Bacchus. '

'Which m e ans  thatyo u f i nd mea que er , --h eathenish,- -sor t of
crea ture?' she sai d , still  laugh ing  an d sw a yi ng . ' So I a m .Tak e 
ca re! Well  n ow , a t ruce t o love -ma king ! I a m tired of be ing  mee k 
an d cha rming --th is  nigh t exci tes m e.  Come and see t he o aks in th e
B as  Br ea u.'
A nd run nin g d own the  rockyp ath  b e f o re  them she led himin a nd  out
thr ough t w is te d  leafy w ay s,till a t las t th e ystood am ong th e 
b la sted gi an ts ofth e f ore st, t h e oa ks ofthe BasBreau .  In the
embold e ning daylight ,  D a v id ,  wit h c ertain Engl ishw oodscen e sinh is mi nd, w ou l ds wear the famous tre es  of Fo ntain ebleau had ne ither
size n o r age to  spe a ko f. But at nigh t the y laid the i r avengi ng
sp ell upon  him. The y stood so  fi nel y o n t h e  b roken ground, e achof 
them w ith  a king lyspa ceabo ut  him; the re was s owi ld  a  fa ntasy in
their  g nar le d a nd br o ken li mbs;andun de r  th e night th e i r sc an ty 
cro wns  o f lea f, f r omwhich t he sap wa s y e arly  e bb ing, ha d so lofty
are moteness.
T hey  found a  rocky s eat in front of a certa i n leafl ess  mons ter, 
which ha d b een st ruc k  by li ghtnin g inawin t e r sto r m  y ear sbefore,
an d ren t fro mtopto bott om. The bare trunk wit h its torn br anc hesy a wn ing st o odou t  ag a i nst the rest, a  black and  m e la ncholy sha p e,pr eaching  desola tion. But Eli se studie d it cool ly .

' I kno w that tre e by hea rt,' shed eclar e d.  'Cor ot,  Rouss ea u,Diaz- -it ha s  se rvedthem a ll . I co uld d ra w it wit h my eyes shut.'

Thenwith t he me nti on of dra win g  sh e began t o tw ist her fi nge rsrestl ess l y.

' I wo n de r w h at th e _c o ncours_ w a sto- d a y, ' she said. ' 
 place--we_shall die.'_and
throwing herself back, she_pulled against_him_childishly, a_spray
of_ivy he had_wound round her_hat drooping with fantastic_shadows
over her face_and_neck.

'Do you know what you are like?' he asked her, evading what she had
said,_while_his eyes_devoured_her.

'No!'

'You_are like that picture in_the Louvre,--Da Vinci's St. John,
that_you say_should be a Bacchus.'

'Which means that you find_me_a queer,--heathenish,--sort of
creature?'_she said, still laughing and swaying. 'So I am._Take
care! Well now, a truce to_love-making! I am_tired_of_being meek
and charming--this night_excites me. Come and see the_oaks in the
Bas Breau.'

And running down_the rocky path before them she led_him in and out
through twisted leafy_ways, till at last they_stood among_the
blasted giants of the forest,_the oaks of_the Bas_Breau. In the
emboldening_daylight, David, with certain English wood_scenes in
his mind,_would swear the famous trees of_Fontainebleau_had neither
size nor_age_to_speak of._But at night_they_laid their_avenging
spell_upon him. They stood so finely_on_the broken ground, each of
them with a_kingly space about him;_there_was so wild a_fantasy in
their gnarled and broken_limbs; and under the night their_scanty
crowns of_leaf, from_which the sap was yearly ebbing, had so lofty
a remoteness.

They found_a rocky seat in front of_a certain leafless monster,
which_had been_struck_by lightning in_a_winter storm_years before,
and rent from top to bottom._The bare_trunk with its torn branches
yawning stood_out against the rest,_a_black and melancholy shape,
preaching desolation. But_Elise studied it coolly.

'I know that_tree by heart,' she declared._'Corot,_Rousseau,
Diaz--it_has served them all. I_could draw it with my eyes_shut.'

Then with the_mention of drawing she began to twist_her_fingers
restlessly.

'I wonder what the _concours_ was_to-day,'_she said. '