She is not, however, interested in what the distance held, for the old Wisteria-covered house, peeping through the purple flowers, with its many windows flashing in the evening blaze, is dominating her. The garden is on terraces, and there are tall acacias, a low fruit orchard with its spring freshness and glory, and a long primitive Vine-trellis casting an enchanting green light and shade on the narrow pathway beneath it. This is the place where she moves and plays. There is a little fountain too, with a pair of lions spouting water from their mouths in the evening hours - making the only music in the twilight there. In the early morning, pigeons.

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