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〃Now I know every tree； every flower on the square here！ I know
every house； every balcony； every shop in this narrow cut…off
corner； where I am denied the sight of this great mighty city。 Where
are the arches of triumph； the Boulevards； the wondrous building of
the world？ I see nothing of all this。 As if shut up in a cage； I stand
among the high houses； which I now know by heart； with their
inscriptions； signs； and placards； all the painted confectionery； that
is no longer to my taste。 Where are all the things of which I heard；
for which I longed； and for whose sake I wanted to come hither？ what
have I seized； found； won？ I feel the same longing I felt before； I
feel that there is a life I should wish to grasp and to experience。
I must go out into the ranks of living men； and mingle among them。 I
must fly about like a bird。 I must see and feel； and become human
altogether。 I must enjoy the one half…day； instead of vegetating for
years in every…day sameness and weariness； in which I become ill；
and at last sink and disappear like the dew on the meadows。 I will
gleam like the cloud； gleam in the sunshine of life； look out over the
whole like the cloud； and pass away like it； no one knoweth whither。〃
Thus sighed the Dryad； and she prayed：
〃Take from me the years that were destined for me； and give me but
half of the life of the ephemeral fly！ Deliver me from my prison！ Give
me human life； human happiness； only a short span； only the one night；
if it cannot be otherwise； and then punish me for my wish to live；
my longing for life！ Strike me out of thy list。 Let my shell； the
fresh young tree； wither； or be hewn down； and burnt to ashes； and
scattered to all the winds！〃
A rustling went through the leaves of the tree； there was a
trembling in each of the leaves； it seemed as if fire streamed through
it。 A gust of wind shook its green crown； and from the midst of that
crown a female figure came forth。 In the same moment she was sitting
beneath the brightly…illuminated leafy branches； young and beautiful
to behold； like poor Mary； to whom the clergyman had said； 〃The
great city will be thy destruction。〃
The Dryad sat at the foot of the tree… at her house door； which
she had locked； and whose key had thrown away。 So young！ so fair！
The stars saw her； and blinked at her。 The gas…lamps saw her； and
gleamed and beckoned to her。 How delicate she was； and yet how
blooming！… a child； and yet a grown maiden！ Her dress was fine as
silk； green as the freshly…opened leaves on the crown of the tree；
in her nut…brown hair clung a half…opened chestnut blossom。 She looked
like the Goddess of Spring。
For one short minute she sat motionless； then she sprang up；
and； light as a gazelle； she hurried away。 She ran and sprang like the
reflection from the mirror that； carried by the sunshine； is cast； now
here； now there。 Could any one have followed her with his eyes； he
would have seen how marvellously her dress and her form changed；
according to the nature of the house or the place whose light happened
to shine upon her。
She reached the Boulevards。 Here a sea of light streamed forth
from the gas…flames of the lamps； the shops and the cafes。 Here
stood in a row young and slender trees； each of which concealed its
Dryad； and gave shade from the artificial sunlight。 The whole vast
pavement was one great festive hall； where covered tables stood
laden with refreshments of all kinds； from champagne and Chartreuse
down to coffee and beer。 Here was an exhibition of flowers； statues；
books； and colored stuffs。
From the crowd close by the lofty houses she looked forth over the
terrific stream beyond the rows of trees。 Yonder heaved a stream of
rolling carriages； cabriolets； coaches； omnibuses； cabs； and among
them riding gentlemen and marching troops。 To cross to the opposite
shore was an undertaking fraught with danger to life and limb。 Now
lanterns shed their radiance abroad； now the gas had the upper hand；
suddenly a rocket rises！ Whence？ Whither？
Here are sounds of soft Italian melodies； yonder； Spanish songs
are sung； accompanied by the rattle of the castanets； but strongest of
all； and predominating over the rest； the street…organ tunes of the
moment； the exciting 〃Can…Can〃 music； which Orpheus never knew； and
which was never heard by the 〃Belle Helene。〃 Even the barrow was
tempted to hop upon one of its wheels。
The Dryad danced； floated； flew； changing her color every
moment； like a humming…bird in the sunshine； each house； with the
world belonging to it； gave her its own reflections。
As the glowing lotus…flower； torn from its stem； is carried away
by the stream； so the Dryad drifted along。 Whenever she paused； she
was another being； so that none was able to follow her； to recognize
her； or to look more closely at her。
Like cloud…pictures； all things flew by her。 She looked into a
thousand faces； but not one was familiar to her； she saw not a
single form from home。 Two bright eyes had remained in her memory。 She
thought of Mary； poor Mary； the ragged merry child； who wore the red
flowers in her black hair。 Mary was now here； in the world…city；
rich and magnificent as in that day when she drove past the house of
the old clergyman； and past the tree of the Dryad； the old oak。
Here she was certainly living； in the deafening tumult。 Perhaps
she had just stepped out of one of the gorgeous carriages in
waiting。 Handsome equipages； with coachmen in gold braid and footmen
in silken hose； drove up。 The people who alighted from them were all
richly…dressed ladies。 They went through the opened gate； and ascended
the broad staircase that led to a building resting on marble
pillars。 Was this building； perhaps； the wonder of the world？ There
Mary would certainly be found。
〃Sancta Maria！〃 resounded from the interior。 Incense floated
through the lofty painted and gilded aisles； where a solemn twilight
reigned。
It was the Church of the Madeleine。
Clad in black garments of the most costly stuffs； fashioned
according to the latest mode； the rich feminine world of Paris
glided across the shining pavement。 The crests of the proprietors were
engraved on silver shields on the velvet…bound prayer…books； and
embroidered in the corners of perfumed handkerchiefs bordered with
Brussels lace。 A few of the ladies were kneeling in silent prayer
before the altars； others resorted to the confessionals。
Anxiety and fear took possession of the Dryad； she felt as if
she had entered a place where she had no right to be。 Here was the
abode of silence； the hall of secrets。 Everything was said in
whispers； every word was a mystery。
The Dryad saw herself enveloped in lace and silk； like the women
of wealth and of high birth around her。 Had； perhaps； every one of
them a longing in her breast； like the Dryad？
A deep； painful sigh was heard。 Did it escape from some
confessional in a distant corner； or from the bosom of the Dryad？
She drew the veil closer around her； she breathed incense； and not the
fresh air