The Bride of Dreams
THE BRIDE OF DREAMS BY FREDERIK VAN EEDEN AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION BY MELLIE VON AUW THE-PLIMPTON-PRESS NORWOOD-MASS-U-S-A I As one approaches my little city from the sea on a summer's day, one sees only the tall, round clump of trees on the ramparts and, overtopping it, the old bell-tower with its fantastically shaped and ornamented stories and dome-top of deep cobalt blue. The land to either side is barely visible, and the green foliage flooded with pale sunshine seems to drift in the sun-mist on the grayish yellow waters. It is a dreamy little town, that once in Holland's prime had a
to utter the same warning. So I took my precautions. Henarez, my dear,
dares to look at me, and his eyes are disquieting. They inspire me
with what I can only call an unreasoning dread. Such a man ought no
more to be looked at than a frog; he is ugly and fascinating.
For two days I have been hesitating whether to tell my father
point-blank that I want no more Spanish lessons and have Henarez sent
about his business. But in spite of all my brave resolutions, I feel
that the horrible sensation which comes over me when I see that man
has become necessary to me. I say to myself, "Once more, and then I
will speak."
His voice, my dear, is sweetly thrilling; his speaking is just like la
Fodor's singing. His manners are simple, entirely free from
affectation. And what teeth!
Just now, as he was leaving, he seemed to divine the interest I take
in him, and made a gesture--oh! most respectfully--as though to take
my hand and kiss it; then checked himself, apparently terrified at his
own boldness and the chasm he had been on the point of bridging. There
was the merest suggestion of all this, but I understood it and smiled,
for nothing is more pathetic than to see the frank impulse of an
inferior checking itself abashed. The love of a plebeian for a girl of
noble birth implies such courage!
My smile emboldened him. The poor fellow looked blindly about for his
THE BRIDE OF DREAMS BY FREDERIK VAN EEDEN AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION BY MELLIE VON AUW THE-PLIMPTON-PRESS NORWOOD-MASS-U-S-A I As one approaches my little city from the sea on a summer's day, one sees only the tall, round clump of trees on the ramparts and, overtopping it, the old bell-tower with its fantastically shaped and ornamented stories and dome-top of deep cobalt blue. The land to either side is barely visible, and the green foliage flooded with pale sunshine seems to drift in the sun-mist on the grayish yellow waters. It is a dreamy little town, that once in Holland's prime had a