commendable, fanciful. I remember it"--he put a finger to his
lip--"let me see." He stepped towards the packet, but I made a sign of
interference--how grateful was I of this afterwards!--and he drew back
courteously. "Ah well," he said, "I have a fair memory; I can, I think,
recall the morsel. It impressed me. I could not think the author an
Englishman. It runs thus," and with admirable grace he recited the
words:

"O flower of all the world, O flower of all!
The garden where thou dwellest is so fair,
Thou art so goodly and so queenly tall,
Thy sweetness scatters sweetness everywhere,
O flower of all!

"O flower of all the years, O flower of all!
A day beside thee is a day of days;
Thy voice is softer than the throstle's call,
There is not song enough to sing thy praise,
O flower of all!

"O flower of all the years, O flower of all!
I seek thee in thy garden, and I dare
To love thee; and though my deserts be small,
Thou art the only flower I would wear,
O flower of all!"

"Now that," he said, "is the romantic, almost the Arcadian spirit. We
have lost it, but it lingers like some rare scent in the folds of lace.
It is also but artifice, yet so is the lingering perfume. When it hung
in the flower it was lost after a day's life, but when gathered and
distilled into an essence it becomes, through artifice, an abiding
sweetness. So with your song there. It is the spirit of devotion,
gathered, it may be, from a thousand flowers, and made into an essence,
which is offered to one only. It is not the worship of this one, but the
worship of a thousand distilled at last to one delicate liturgy. So much
for sentiment," he continued. "Upon my soul, Captain Moray, you are a
boon. I love to have you caged. I shall watch your distressed career to
its close with deep scrutiny. You and I are wholly different, but you
are interesting. You never could be great. Pardon the egotism, but it
is truth. Your brain works heavily, you are too tenacious of your
conscience, you are a blunderer. You will always sow, and others will
reap."

I waved my hand in deprecation, for I was in no mood for further talk,
and I made no answer. He smiled at me, and said, "Well, since you doubt
my theories, let us come, as your Shakespeare says, to Hecuba.... If you
will come with me," he added, as he opened my cell door, and motioned me
courteously to go outside. I drew back, and he said, "Ther