nightfall told
me of a disastrous love-story in consequence of which, were it not for
his mother, he would drown himself in the lake. He effaced himself
before Paragot much as the bellows-blower does before the organist. His
politeness to Blanquette would have put to the blush any young man at
the Bon Marche or the Louvre. His name was Laripet.

I was ordered to make modest use of my tambourine until sufficient
instruction from Paragot should authorise him to let me loose with it; I
was merely to add to the picturesqueness of the group on the platform,
and at intervals to go the round of the guests collecting money. I liked
this, for I could then jingle the tambourine without fear of reproof.
You have no idea what an ordeal it is for a boy to have a tambourine
which he must not jingle. But the shady charm of the garden compensated
for the repression of noisy instincts. After months of tramping in the
broiling sun, free and perfect as it was, the easy loafing life seemed
sweet. We went little into the gay town itself. For my part I did not
like it. Aix-les-Bains consisted of a vast Enchanted Garden set in a
valley, great mountains hemming it round. Skirting the Enchanted Garden
were shady streets and mysterious palaces, some having gardens of their
own of a secondary enchantment, and shops where jewels and perfumes and
white ties and flowers and other objects of strange luxury were
exhibited in the windows. But these took the humble place of mere
accessories to the Enchanted Garden, jealously guarded against Asticot
by great high gilded railings and by blue-coated, silver-buttoned
functionaries at the gates. Within rose two Wonder Houses gorgeous with
dome and pinnacle, bewildering with gold and snow, displaying before the
aching sight the long cool stretch of verandahs, and offering the
baffling glimpse of vast interiors whence floated the dim sound of music
and laughter; and bright, happy beings, in wondrous raiment, wandered in
and out unchallenged, unconcerned, as if the Wonder Houses were their
birthright.

I, a shabby, penniless little Peri, stood at the gilded gates
disconsolate. I didn't like it. The mystery of the unknown beatitude
within the Wonder Houses oppressed me to faintness. _It was
unimaginable._ Through the leaves of a tree I could see the pale Queen
Galeswinthe; but through those gay enchanting walls I could see nothing.
They baulked my soul. When I tried to explain my feelings to Paragot he
looked