Their lively imagination creates an aerial world which satisfies their
aspirations. The true poetry of such a love as this is the sonnet on
spring in the Song of Solomon, which is far more voluptuous than it is
passionate. "Hiems transiit; imber abiit et recessit.... Vox turturis
audita est in terra nostra.... Surge, amica mea, et veni."
[Footnote 1: What grand _landwehr_ leaders they would have made! There
are no such men in the present day.]
THE FLAX-CRUSHER
PART IV.
My mother, resuming her story, went on to say:--
"We are all, as a matter of fact, at the mercy of our illusions, and
the proof of this is that in many cases nothing is easier than to
take in Nature by devices which she is unable to distinguish from the
reality. I shall never forget the daughter of Marzin, the carpenter in
the High Street, who, losing her senses owing to a suppression of the
maternal sentiment, took a log of wood, dressed it up in rags, placed
on the top of it a sort of baby's cap, and passed the day in fondling,
rocking, hugging, and kissing this artificial infant. When it was
placed in the cradle beside her of an evening, she was quiet all
night. There are some instincts for which appearances suffice, and
which can be kept quiet by fictions. Thus it was that Kermelle's
daughter succeeded in giving reality to her dreams. Her ideal was a
life in common with the man she loved, and the one which she shared in
fancy was not, of course, that of a priest, but the ordinary domestic
life.
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