 section one of the rose-coloured world and other fantasies this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the rose-coloured world and other fantasies by Ethel Mary Brody section one Don Waring stretched his long limbs yawned generously and opened his eyes opened his eyes indeed and stared amazingly at the sky through the trees stared stared as he had never done before in his life for Don's eyes were usually only half open he stared without blinking till his eyes felt sore stared with an astonishment which rarely disturbs such easygoing indolent mortals as Mr. Don Waring something surely most unusual had happened and well he might stare for above him among the leaves and branches glared the rosiest sky he had ever seen rose rose like the crushed leaves of the reddest roses rose to the north rose to the east rose to the south rose to the west a flaming radiant brilliant rose spread everywhere to the horizon intoxicating rose not alone at the sky did Don stare but at the trees the grass the meadows beyond the woods the trees shimmered all colours of the rose as the sunlight fell upon them flashing in the breeze like rubies from the palest to the darkest pinks the tall grasses bent in a wave of pink like a coral sea the rose at meadows beyond died away in the violent mist of the hills alone the flowers had kept their natural use the snowy white marquette the wise golden buttercup the passionate poppy the gentle violet the lily with its grave pure heart of white every flower maiden so natural and as beautiful beneath the rosy its sky as it had been when its leaves opened wide under heaven's blue the woodland the fields the hedges all nature was shaded in a thousand use of rose and this was varied by an occasional white willow perfect white weeping into a rivulet which bubbled along the lazy way Don wearing rubbed his eyes vigorously then he pinched himself soundly well he was certainly alive and awake by jove he muttered solemnly if this is the end of the world I'm for the goats my sins are many and here's one COD and Don glanced at his watch four o'clock I promised Teresa would meet her at awkward corner on high street at half past two jove what a time to be asleep this must be eternity rose rose rose everywhere very odd and he rubbed his eyes again and repinched himself then he got slowly to his feet and shook himself like a big sink Bernard don't understand this new aspect of things he murmured again looking around at the pink trees and grass something is wrong with my point of view I suppose I see this world pink perchance somebody else sees it green now I wonder which of us sees it right it is enough for me to have to Reese flare up and scold without this flaming world I suppose there's been a volcanic eruption while I slept the sky still reflects it and he walked off through the rose at woodland stepping across the rivulet whose waters rippled in ribbons of pink and so on to the high street and to Reese as he walked on he observed that the houses had all changed since noonday when he fell asleep more fantastic houses he had never seen quaint indeed pretty odd everything that was dainty and well essentially feminine in design and decoration greeted his eyes along the streets but with all their daintiness the windows were bare of curtains and anything suggestive of a woman's touch the gardens were orderly and joyously luxuriant with flowers the verandas were spacious and clean but lacking in the feminine coziness of cushion rocker and hammock something of homeless was lacking about every mansion and cottage don stared much but as staring did not alter facts he simply sighed and walked on thinking fondly of therese his thoughts were not allowed to run on peacefully to his utter amazement as he entered the high street a bevy of pretty girls was standing around the door of the horseshoe in not only standing but smoking smoking cigarettes cigars and an old cruel fact pipes they laughed aloud as they joked with one another so unseemly don had ever been a devotee of the eternal feminine but for the first time in his life his nerve all but foresuck him every one of those pretty girls turned and stared nonchalantly at him as if he were something very superior or was it inferior he was afraid to decide he felt conscious of his tie being awry then he wondered if his boots had the usual shine and he glanced stealthily down to see he blessed his last tailor lest his coat sagged ungracefully indeed he felt thoroughly and uncomfortably conscious that something was amiss with himself or his clothes and his sensations were not pleasant with a couple of dozen eyes scrutinizing him boldly as he approached not only that but the unwantedness of girls standing around the indoor was disturbing not to say annoying as for their smoking well he was no moralist so it mattered little at least as therese was not among the girls he did not care if therese had been there smoke well there to a sacrilegious to even permit the thought therese was the bell of the town she was a brown eyed girl with cheeks like twin cherries a mass of chestnut curls which defied all conventional combing and a spirit like an angel alas and not unlike a devil at times thought don but therese smoking never therese was a womanly woman and had her own ideals fine ones even if they were provincial perchance all the finer for being born and developed in the pure air of the town so near the field flowers the still softness of the woodlands the peaceful eternal hills therese would never smoke no matter what other girls did don raised his hat nervously as he passed the inn the bevy nodded carelessly some of its members not even removing their pipes after he had passed dead silence fell on the girls that added to don's discomforter but what had happened to this strange world or rather what had happened to don usually he stopped and joked with his girlfriends but something extraordinary had befallen his nerves he was tongue tied as don was naturally a sociable talkative man this was most extraordinary don observed a number of strange things as he wandered on every cart wagon and other vehicle which clattered past on the cobblestone road was driven by a woman and every shop only girls served and horror of horrors even the barbershop was run by a woman indeed the affairs of the world seem to be in the hands of the women and do don they appear to be upside down however therese was all right whatever the world might do therese would always be the same sweet lovable girl unspoiled by any volcanic metamorphosis and social customs or in nature or the sky dear therese don strode along the high street dreaming in confident at oakwood corner was a grove of trees surrounded by a high fence the townspeople were pleased to call it a park there at oakwood corner don stopped stopped with a violent palpitation of astonishment boldly sitting on the fence with her arms crossed nonchalantly smoking a huge cigar was therese non decided to retire unobtrusively shrank from embarrassing her but on further consideration he changed his mind he would find out the meaning of all these queer phenomena therese would know of course apparently she felt no shame at being seen in public smoking very improper therese had not observed him her attitude was one of careless ease and she was half whistling a popular air from a recent comic opera between luxurious puffs of smoke certainly she appeared to be enjoying her folly for she threw back her head and blew spirals of smoke into the air and then laughed as the wind carried them away as don approached her he again felt that odd embarrassment that cruel consciousness of his tie his boots his coat where had his nerve fled good afternoon therese he ventured nervously therese swung around on the fence easily and faced him calmly removing her cigar hello don she exclaimed cheerfully how do you do he returned flushing slightly and inwardly annoyed i suppose i shall have to throw this away she observed coolly even reluctantly laying her huge cigar on a post don laughed somewhat hysterically suppose well i should think so said he why asked therese daintily wiping some ashes off her muslin sleeve with a tiny handkerchief and not paying much attention seriously to his remark oh of course it's all right in fact it's no matter certainly don's meaning was somewhat involved he felt he was on the edge of deep water scrambled out sorry i'm late he added hurriedly that's nothing remarked the little woman carelessly just usual putting on a new tie i presume looks very nice i fell asleep under the trees he began apologetically never mind dear came her quick and rather surprising rejoinder we women always have to wait for you men you are a vain lot forever pranking well that's better than smoking rejoined don with spirit therese opened her eyes in amazement smoking why what's wrong with that wrong why everything is wrong with that don's courage foresook him with therese's big brown eyes so sternly fixed upon him he stopped abruptly you never objected before she said slowly that is a poor explanation how was a woman to spend her time when she has nothing to do if she does not smoke don was shocked was therese mad never smoked before he said quietly never smoked before why i have been smoking straight along ever since you knew me you're dreaming and she laughed wake up don come out from under the trees therese that's not true if you have smoked you never let me know the girl climbed down off the fence in a very boyish fashion and faced him boldly don wearing you accused me of telling a falsehood if you don't choose to remember or believe our friendship had better end don's heart began to beat uncomfortably i simply tell the truth as i know it said he you never smoked before to my knowledge then your memory is still asleep under the trees remarked therese i guess it is smile don equivocally anyway why shouldn't i smoke demanded therese every woman smokes women have been smoking ever since this age began why shouldn't they don wondered what age as he answered firmly it is a man's privilege and pleasure a man's cry therese astonished why there isn't a man in town who smokes or if he does he smokes in secret where women cannot pry no gentleman ever smokes don burst out laughing and then stopped in the midst thereof as he remembered the horseshoe in the bevy of girls what did all these things mean i expect we had better change the subject broken therese tea may be a pleasanter topic than smoking it is late now come along to the brass tea kettle and have afternoon tea and herewith don received another shock therese had never suggested afternoon tea before or any other paid for a pleasure for that matter it struck don as rather original bold in fact not that he objected but it was not what a man looked for in the woman he adored however as therese wished it so it must be and they started down the high street therese in the gayest of spirits and don involved don's distress did not decrease with this change of events for every girl who met them smiled knowingly at the little woman by his side and nodded in like fashion this was growing unbearable how rude those girls are he exclaimed sententiously not at all replied therese i feel flattered flattered at what inquired her companion walking with so handsome a man you look your best today don the man gave up being surprised at therese she had never made a remark like that before however possibly the rose pink sky had something to do with it certainly the sky had not changed since he had wakened under the rosy of trees as for therese don's thoughts became wrapped in gloom and mystery as they entered the brass tea kettle don observed that there were present a greater number of men than girls the reverse of usual in every corner of the room men sipped tea at the little round tables men exquisitely groomed with the flashiest of tides and the daintiest of boutonnaires men strangely effeminate and the few girls who were present ogled the men in a very forward fashion while the latter seemed to be rather shy and inclined to the nervous snigger therese met with the pleasant nods on every side as for don the female world expressed open admiration don with the courage of the daniel among lions nerved himself to the occasion therese ordered the tea therese jollied the men waiting for men served in the brass tea kettle for the first time therese tipped the waiter therese paid the bill and don don secretly solemnly pinched himself under the table to see if he were alive don was overwhelmed therese this is too much of a good thing he protested holding out his hand for the bill this is my affair came the quick rejoinder nonsense snapped don with annoyance therese laughed softly so long as the world good taste and chivalry rule women must play their part in womanly fashion we serve you men who ever heard of a gentleman paying for a woman fancy don what my friends would think of me if you bought seats for me at the theater and paid for the supper afterward well that is the way it ought to be explained their companion indignantly rubbish we women do the work we are paid for it why shouldn't we treat you men to what pleasures we can afford our life is so free and you are so hampered with social duties calling etc is the least we can do to brighten your lives and therese picked up her dainty keen as they left the tea room what next cried don half angry half amused woman's rights woman's suffrage woman's and then he exploded with laughter you are utterly incomprehensible today and therese snapped the head off of a dandelion with her cane why do you laugh no manly man would hesitate to let a woman pay his way in the world does a woman's right does only chivalrous to take a woman's money and spend it as he pleases i don't understand you small wonder laughed on i'm just thinking of how funny it would be if woman clothed and fed their husbands and children fancy the woman buying everything while her husband spent his money as he liked imagine her paying doctors bills gas bills and water rates and generally being the rudge and banker of the family well you laugh at what actually exists every woman in this town with few exceptions is doing that why shouldn't she just the way of the world then the world has changed for the worse return dawn firmly simply your point of view don may have been otherwise at one time but who knows which is the right way don't please pleaded don i can't stand any more woman's rights therese just gave him a mystifying smile they walked on in silence for some time it was a sweet sunny day just a day for a long automobile ride the wind wrestled the treetops and skipped over the lawns then ran away and hit among the flowers out it came again and puffed into the faces of the wave errors tempting them to laughter and to talk with the exhilaration of the day don was on the verge of suggesting a drive when suddenly a remarkable airship of very handsome appearance swung around the corner of the street and it settled down beside them here's our car cry terese gaily hours gasped on gazing at the fine comfortable airship in astonishment with its gay brass fittings and luxurious cushions yes i ordered it jump in dear and let us away to the pink fields and wild flowers i am longing for a world through the country air don stepped in without more ado he had never been in an airship before in fact he had never seen one except in pictures so far only experts and inventors sailed in them don felt very nervous on terese's account but the latter jumped in as if she had never traveled in anything else and an airship was an easy to run as a baby carriage and to don's horror she dismissed the aviator a woman my tree beg don feebly nonsense smiled terese as she waved her hand to the aviator and started the ship sailing upward over the roofs of the houses and into the rosy country you are only a man she said presently well and why not ask don holding his breath as they flew over a lake oh i'm satisfied remark terese just steering past the boughs of a huge oak tree thank you said don mildly aren't these airships a great improvement on the old auto cars everyone is trying to sell the old things now and purchase an airship remark terese some awful accidents happen oh it's wonderful great exclaimed don enthusiastically and then as they suddenly whirled across an inlet of the sea where the surf was pounding among the rocks in a wild hungry roar and he beheld another aircraft rapidly sailing from an opposite direction he asked with an inward quake yes i should imagine some accidents might happen i'm glad you like it rejoined terese calmly waving her handkerchief as they shot close past the other airship there go the Spencer Latins haven't they got a swell airship go 60 miles an hour sometimes 80 gee exclaimed don aghast you know better now than to remark at any strange thing or happening and hid his secret shutters as the airship darted over treetops and windmills regulation speed is 40 miles an hour but people haven't changed since the old days with the auto car and lots of them rushed through the air at a terrific speed it's not fair to the grosserships and the butcherships and thus the accidents it keeps the airship policemen busy you see there are so much commerce and traffic in the air now they're starting an airship express company as the trains do not go fast enough you know the airship streetcar system in london is paying enormous dividends and in new york people won't travel in anything else and terese increased their speed till the air whistled and sang around them we shall have a cozy time together dear said she after a while don smothered an exclamation at this audacity and simply said oh of course away into the country flew the airship and what a wonderful world of pinks and reds it was woodlands meadows streams lakes all blending in rare and beautiful shades of sunset hues wonderful exclaimed don as he gazed over the rosette landscape what would think you had never seen the country before said terese as they darted across an island dotted lakelit and struck over the tops of a dense wood neither i have in these shades he answered carefully what shades demanded terese pinks and reds and crimson's terese laughed it has always been pink and red and crimson love and a woman make it so murmured don after which to his surprise terese pressed his hand which don reciprocated the fervor and the woods grew redder than ever the fields were masked with daisies and buttercups a sea of coral set with topaz and pearl streams of water twinkled in the sunshine bubbling over pebbles in a thousand shades of ruby branches of trees met an amaze of rosy leafage glancing in light or shade as the sun fell upon them crimson hedges railed the fields into a velvet checkerboard hills rolled away to the horizon in a rosy glow dying in an opalescent wave of light gold and garnet groves of trees robed as if in autumnal dress wreath their various shades like jeweled coronals or splashed the hillside like heart's blood here and there a wayside pond or creek reflected the glory of coral ruby and garnet weaving endless lacework of leaf and weed and bow to us a wondrous rosy world out in the fields girls worked in the warm sunlight some were plowing some cutting the long grasses with a skype some piling new moan hay rusty pink hay some tended the orchard trees girls girls girls don almost forgot his cherry-cheeked terese and his admiration of the numerous pretty girls in the fields we shall descend here said terese presently as the airship began to settle down gracefully into a flowered meadow beside a tiny lake as they touched ground she leapt out with boyish agility and now for a run in the meadows at first my pipe you don't mind my smoking don frowned aggressively not that terese and why came her cool query for the same reason i gave before women should not smoke it is masculine unwomanly ungraceful returned don sententiously you are not the first man who protested but so long as you do not smoke i don't care and terese let her pipe puffed easily and contentedly to don's horror i won't budge if you don't stop that and he leaned against the tree and looked sternly at the little woman everywhere i see girls working smoking and not a man to be seen nevertheless i object to your smoking on every ground if you continue blowing at that horrid pipe i'll blow too terese laughed gaily no sir you won't do that what would the people say oh hang the people dawn reprovingly well then terese settled herself on the stump of an oak tree as if to read him a lecture and said gravely men should look handsome and dress well and please the eye of a woman that's enough don't spoil it by smoking we women admire your handsome figures your fine faces the set of your tie the tilt of your hat the hang of your coat come dear boy don't spoil what nature meant to be so attractive to women by smoking it is not manly don removed his hat ran his fingers through his hair and sighed desperately terese what does all this mean and he waved his hands towards the rosy fields the reign of woman answered she calmly not the golden age suggested don mischievously no the rosy age woman's age exclaimed terese joyously the world runs on oiled wheels the sky is full of hope the woods are rich in hope the sea overflows with hope warm glowing hope wonderful hope and for what meekly asked don half smiling for the reason that it exists returned to reese in a patronizing tone glancing with pity at her companion for his lack of knowledge men got worn out mentally and physically piling fortunes working all day and all night to pay milleners modest days masseuses and nerve sanitariums they degenerated to picnese in will intellect physique there are only a few men real men left that is why all the girls are after you me exclaimed don losing his breath why yes proposal don't you know only you are engaged said terese lightly to whom pray beg don with a moses like calm to me came her savois fair reply hope you don't object to this line of tobacco best i could get oh no remember don bewildered comprehending at last why so few men were about the world and also terese's cool possession of himself you know that i proposed to you don did you laughed he hysterically of course from terese somewhat indignantly and when he continued in ecstasy now don't be saucy boy and terese shook her finger at him saucy by jove i was longing to tell you how i loved you ages ago and to propose but feared you are not a modest man interrupted terese it is a woman's place to make love to propose and other such things whereupon don tried to slip his arm around her waist don't forget yourself reproved to reese sternly don glanced lovingly at the trim little woman tripping along beside him in her sweet white muslin gown and hat of margarit's so men are done for city men too he inquired to change the subject which had grown somewhat complicated oh they are awful so affected so luxurious all nerves culture and emotions you are such a dear simple country fellow so true so natural that is why i love you city men are unnatural like forced fruit hot house creatures none for me please and terese flicked some ashes off her muslin dress and tossed her head knowingly and the women ventured down bent on gaining what knowledge he could of this new world oh the women are piling up the money and making the laws and playing toss and catch with the stock market women are steering the airships hunting the gold mines inventing same as the men did interrupted he half sarcastically yes enthusiastically and the end inquired don quizzically rosy at glory eternal happiness exclaimed the enthusiast her brown eyes sparkling with the light and if the women and the men continued us don could have kissed the little face upturned so hopefully to him we are living in eternity now smile to reese confidently and the women will not degenerate as the men asked don humbly how could they demanded she heartily a woman's reason sigh don and why shouldn't they i would like to know because and to reese stopped short and then to reese threw her arms around his neck and the man responded with great heartiness forgetting the cigar remembering only the woman's lips her lips so red and sweet red is the rose colored world if this is to live in the woman's world may it continue forever he cried ardently holding her tenderly in his arms and then don awoke how dare you broke suddenly on his ears you horrid man and we are not even engaged and someone struggled out of his arms dear me laughed on opening his eyes wide i thought we were engaged and then as he glanced amazingly at the green leaves overhead and at to reese's blushing face of discomforture he added i was going to hint about it today but as you proposed i didn't do anything of the kind indignantly protested to reese you're half asleep asleep don stretched out his arms toward her to reese retired yes you have been sleeping here under the trees and you came to find me said he advancing toward her no i didn't to reese turned her head away very dignified then i have been asleep in a rose colored world but small wonder with you so near it was love that colored my dream what dream from inquisitive to reese my dream of the reign of woman in the rose colored world don returned adding deliberately and about the day to reese but to reese fled away among the trees end of section one section two of the rose colored world and other fantasies this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libra vox.org recording by adam santoni the rose colored world and other fantasies by ethyl mary brody marie or the girl in the gingham gown who would have thought it of marie plain common marie a queer girl marie queer had she been all her life long queer in her childhood queer in her girlhood queer in her womanhood was she a woman half child half woman marie not like other girls was she and marie knew marie laughed lightly laughed she and went on her way but there were tears in her laughter in the city of the lotus eaters marie was born a child among other children a child of nature was she wild and free as the winds pure as the new blown sea foam happy as the hummingbird as it bills from flower to flower she romped with the boys and she sat among the apple blossoms dreaming dreams how she longed to be free free as the air and no one understood but a great fire burned in marie's soul a fire lit by god times there were when marie's merriment vanished like april sunshine times when melancholy sat heavy on the sensitive imaginative child her thoughts wept with the reins her emotions brooded with the clouds and in her soul a direful dirge chanted to the tempest erratic marie said the lotus eaters a helpless girl guiding her bark by every wandering star steeped in the sadness and the dreariness of life what weird and woeful visions gathered in her baby brain a sheltered spot would marie seek and there retired to ramble in a world of reflection to mourn over the sorrowful things the imagined and the real there would she cry and break her baby heart and no one saw but god marie's soul echoed with music pathetic passionate music she loved the music of norway the music of scotland the melodies of greek and chikowski the simple folk song of the highlands the heart harmonies of human souls bound by granite mountains by fields of ice and stormy seas how intensely she loved this region of reverberation the unutterable longing the restlessness the tragedy the tempest-tossed spirit yearning for freedom it chanted there in the wailing melodies of the northlands and through it all the still small voice of love dreaming in the lull of the hurricane despairing in its fury flaming in the lightning and dying dying in the rays of the sun so rare in the northlands like the music was marie a wandering minor chord in the symphony of life lonely timid loving marie and there were hours of sun for marie buoyant hours hours that leaped with the dancing breeze hours fitting with fantasies when the birds whistled of love in the butterfly's wing from flower to flower when the sky was softer for love when the zephyrus kissed the leafy world and sighed among the grasses when blossoms burst and breathed of love and love sang on the waves of the sea and love bathed in the dawn and love nestled in the bosom of the whitest clouds and all day long love roamed whether it would and fell asleep in the arms of the sunset for marie loved and god knew and the fantasy faded as snowflakes melt in a stream as snowflakes melt in the stream of life to refresh some thirsty flower as snowflakes melt into nothingness to serve solitary among spellbound rocks wandered the lonely spirit of marie hid was the sunlight vanish where the golden fields the wooded hills the sparkling sea desolate and lost poor marie the iron rocks crushed in a ponder no cleft for love to flow through the bleak and barren mountains closed her vision the drear and dismal solitude spread before her eyes in gloomy deserts were never foot of man trod flood the spirit of marie ever gray was the sky and sunbeams rare there were times when cruel black clouds surged in fury across the desolation frowning angry clouds wild hopeless melodies moaned in marie's heaven fierce lightning pierced the gloom it darted hither and thither rending the rocks roaring among the mountains whirling across the wastes and a cry of despair shrieked from the heart of the wind twas the soul of the northlands twas music but music run wild twas love but love repelled twas a heart silently hoarding love but love that found no outlet twas just marie in the city of the lotus eaters was a turmoil of restlessness hunger and thirst rage and loneliness jealousy and dissatisfaction and despair dark indolent despair for no god ruled the city the little weed of self grew to a forest a tangled dense forest no clear paths cut this unhappy region no shekeena pointed away through its blackness and deep in the forest was hidden so simple a thing across in the city of the lotus eaters was a great ball given in a splendid palace were luxury and loneliness like hollow-eyed specters mingled in the maze of a strange dance the ceilings flared with a thousand lights the sickening sweetness of roses drowsed like the sultry heat of noonday and hung on the atmosphere like a pall the walls were banked with roses roses slowly wilting in the vitiated air cushions and devans luxuriated in corners and in stray places softened lights burned with a red gleam and odd nooks flowing melting melodies vibrated from a hidden orchestra hidden in a bower of lilies pure and white lilies and roses perishing to adorn the ballroom and withering in the heat of indolence and the wine of life rippled with the music and the dance for the little weed of self was making marie and marie was there in a gingham gown soon the ballroom glowed with life men and women lightly skipped the hours away wine danced with the moments age rested wearily on the easy devans youth nestled into the soft cushions youth dozed in corners and dreamed in nooks youth loved in the mystery of the red lights youth thrilled in the melting music youth sipped the wine and tossed its ruby drops so like blood and the little weed of self grew and marie served alone marie and her gingham gown marie the page of grand ladies marie the footstool of men marie the target of youth of the barbed arrows of envy and spite of the poisoned arrows of jealousy and revenge plain common marie the helpless rudderless woman child just marie marie marie in a gingham gown hither marie men this old dames train tis torn and here a dark maiden has soiled her skirt a maiden with chestnut hair and eyes of blue come hither marie here are maidens with auburn hair flatter them praise them it is their life and here are black eyed damsels with eyes like scornful darts they have stumbled over your heart marie but it matters not and who are these that curl their lips with pretty poisoned sarcasms the fair-haired maidens of stoic mold put on their shoes marie wiped the dust from beneath their feet and here are gray-haired dames who mistake hearts blood for wine who spill it out of golden cups and care not have they spilled your heart's blood marie ah that is nothing marie marie come hither marie here is a girl painting painting in a corner she will paint your heart marie she will paint it in black and gray and blood let her paint what is a heart nothing nothing more or less come hither marie here are men who will crush you rest their cloven feet upon you join it child tis service for them noble service here is a man who is fallen lift him let him lead on your shoulder ah it may pain you but what is pain nothing nothing more or less throw your heart to the herd marie they will but trample upon it lay your service at their feet they will but scorn you but lift your head and they would kill you beware marie marie in the gingham gown come hither marie there is lowly service for you half woman half child here is a lonely woman give her a lily fresh and pure here is a heart-sour man give him sweet wine and a smile a smile of hope such as the angels give reckon not with the silken gowns marie forget the glaring lights notice not the dance the wine for there are roses fading on the walls and lilies perishing for want of water marie marie who do you see what is there why do you tremble so why haste you to a lonely room and weep weep in silence and sorrow who would hurt you marie half child half woman who would tear the wings from a bird or nip the flower from the humming bee come hither marie but marie comes not who will mend the torn skirts and dust the soiled feet who will think of the lonely the sad the fallen come marie one maiden will coax with a pair of red slippers but the buckles are broken off another will lend a soiled gown of blue a man will press your hand but it will burn your hand in the pressing will you have nothing come marie you need not weep one by one the lights die out the crowd disperses far away echo the voices of the departing marie makers the music lingers a moment and is silenced and marie weeps alone but god sees the crowd paused marie is weeping weeping why marie has a heart who would have thought it of marie marie with a broken heart plain common marie marie in the gingham gown marie and love think of it deep in the forest was hidden so simple a thing across marie marie in the gingham gown end of section two recording by adam santoni section three of the rose colored world and other fantasies this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libra vox org recording by melissa green the rose colored world and other fantasies by ethyl mary brody andy's vision twas many years ago andy mccary was an only son an unspoiled son and no one would have thought it possible that religious mrs amantha mccary's we pale faced boy would have had such an experience but religious parents sometimes bring unique children into the world certainly andy was an anomaly that mrs mccary should be so unfortunate as to have a child out of the ordinary was something to be pitied indeed and a fact to be hid from the neighbors so when the revelation of the vision came mrs amantha mccary pondered much but wisely kept the matter to herself else what would the neighbors have said great chums were andy and his father the heart and heart sort they hung together like burrs andy's mother was severely religious streaked a wee bit too much with the steel gray paint of the coven enters highly proper in all things and something hard don't don't don't was the weary some song of andy's daily life consequently his jolly father with his bra hail in hearty ways became andy's hero his all andy and his father seemed to know each other's thoughts without much explanation they understood each other which occasionally happens between mortals though not often enough to disturb the natural processes of character culture their sympathies were keen and sensitive especially when mrs amantha mccary started a religious storm in the house when his father set out for india andy was 14 years old to andy it seemed a long journey from adinburgh to india and journeys were not made so quickly nor so easily in those days as now andy felt that his father was going to the ends of the earth letters were rare long ago few and far between according with the smooth or stormy passage of the ships news traveled slowly so the year war passed weirdly for andy december had spread its bleak mantle over enboro the streets were sloppy damp exhumed from the gray stone houses dour mists enveloped the castle in arthur's seat and belated vapours smothered the beauty of princes street a leaden sky hung gloomily overhead and a bitter east wind blew down from colton hall and everywhere the atmosphere sniffed of coke and soot and seawater to his hopeless weather but one ray of sun split upon andy's sky his mother had received an epistle from india within a month mr. mccary would be home perhaps by new year's day andy walked on air poor laddie he was longing for his father how endless the year had seemed without him and now it was nearly over andy's heart grew light every day he thought of his father and planned of the wonderful things he and his father would do how he hungered for a sight of him christmas day arrived and slow and stupid was the day for andy mrs. amanth mccary ever accepted it as a religious duty she had to perform and perform well the plum pudding was sanctimonious even to the lack of currents and raisins the turkey had lived the life of rua clus its obstemious faring was plainly visible in the lack of fat on its scrawny frame poor andy it was a dour lonesome day forlorn indeed for it poured all day soft permeating melancholy rain it rained as scotch weather knows how to rain and the doleful patter patter measured each hour andy was not allowed to yell so could make no noise to drown the sound of the rain such vulgar conduct merited a severe discipline of bread water and bed his mother never considered his age he was ever a fractious laddie at least she thought so and it mattered little what anyone else thought christmas evening at last dragged weirdly into existence andy had made brave efforts to enjoy himself all day he had done everything that he was allowed to do every hour he had courageously determined not to be lonely not to think of his father not to hear the monotonous dirge of the raindrops nothing succeeded finally he picked out a favorite book from his father's small library and curled into an easy chair by a skimpy fire of his mother's mending it was no use andy left his book and went to a window a dismal prospect met his eyes rain dropped into the lifeless areas it rolled weirdly off the cobblestones and into streams that ran anywhere and everywhere downhill it soaked into the little park square and polished leaves of the holly and laurel trees and it ran off the iron railings the foot passengers looked as miserable as the weather collars up in a general air of wilting and despair an occasional drae scraped past or a handsome screed along the lamps were lighted and glimmered dimly through the thick mist and the pattern of the rain was maddening andy could think of nothing but the awful tortures of the middle ages the drop drop drop slowly descending on the prisoner's head and the madness that closed the cruel scene in the last act of human misery to the stingy fire andy dolefully returned but his restlessness and loneliness increased he seized the book and began again this time he succeeded fairly well indeed he was at an exciting crisis when he felt impelled to look up he felt that he must look up but boylike he resisted the force with dour scotch determination he read on it was the first incident of the day that had interested him he grew rather excited over it in his awakened interest he forgot his loneliness the pattering drops even his father it was overwhelming and andy's curiosity got the better of his will he stared a moment at the floor and then peered shyly up there in the doorway his eyes fastened tight andy shivered his heart stopped with a jerk and then thumped so loudly it deafened him even to the rain there in the doorway stood his father merci ladi what are you gaping at a sound box on the ear broke the spell if you had nothing to do but gape see your prayers and gate to bed you hey muckl need or your mother's spirit sitting there as if you'd seen a gaste andy paled but said nothing with mrs. mccurry's voice the vision had faded and andy was marched to bed with a slither of plum cake woefully lacking in plums as a special christmas beneficence new year's day came and dismally passed no sign of mr. mccurry's return mrs. amantha mccurry expressed stern displeasure on new year's day when her husband made no appearance and she vented her righteous indignation in good covenanting style so new year's day was as glum as christmas for andy january slipped away slowly still no word on the dark and raw days at the end of january mrs. mccurry hoped in religious zeal that nothing had happened the foolish man february dragged its ruthless days along and ended but no news of andy's father lightened the sadness in the little lad's heart and as february neared its close his mother arrayed solemnly in black and believed all was for the best but as march advanced her spirit broke when still no news came mrs. amantha mccurry loved her husband in an odd way she would scold vigorously mend his coat neatly and give him a square meal in the same breath so to speak she possessed the happy faculty of making him comfortable and wretched in the same moment there are some folk built that way news came at the end of march andy had suffered keenly through these past clouded days silently he had mourned his father for dead and his vision came back and troubled him he longed to tell his mother but she was unapproachable about such things he knew she would condemn it as wicked imaginings and she would say that he was flying in the face of providence and daring the devil to do his worst that such talk was enough to bring some awful doom upon himself poor little innocent laddie and upon his home but at last the news had come perchance there is more providence in the things on scene than in the things seen perchance there is a good spirit moving in these wandering premonitions these strange inward visions these weird haunting presentiments perchance there is meaning even in our dreams pray who can explain these mysterious silent influences and yet how frequently they come true but in these materialistic days we believe nothing unless it strikes home to our reason the way a loose board in the sidewalk hits us in the face but the news had come at last andy's father had been seriously ill on his return journey and had been left at an out-of-the-way port he was now convalescent in a few days he would be home what a load fell off andy's heart and how his thoughts broke loose and flew to the old pleasures and haunts and games he and his father had enjoyed together the dour gray cloud had broken and andy's heart beat high with the sunshine of anticipation his father was coming home from the day that the news came a great change took place in mrs. amantha mccary she rushed the shops on princes street she purchased a plum silk gown and a pink feather for a new velvet bonnet indeed she was to be a study in plum for mr. mccurry's arrival mrs. mccurry laid in a stock of mince pies sufficient to lay waste the digestive organs of half the population of old reeky she made plum pudding so full of currents and raisins there was no room left for the pudding as for turkeys the story went among the neighbors that she had bought a dozen and fed them so well that they grew too fat and elastic bands were necessary as providence had set a limit even to the capacity and extension of turkeys and the whole house reeked of scotch bun shortbread and raspberry vinegar as for andy he was rigged in a bonny suit of mccurry tartan with a black velvet glengaria top spore and platy buckles and all just like the soldiers in the castle as he explained to his father later on regretting that he had not a bagpipe with long mccurry streamers flying from the pipes and muckle of a grand noise inside him of course the neighbors decided that mrs. amantha mccurry was going to marry again neighbors always know the mccurry home was turned topsy-turvy everything that mr. mccurry had disliked of the stern and proper and furniture and pictures of mrs. amantha's covenanting choice mysteriously disappeared or reappeared in such strangely gay and weirdly tinseled attire that andy's religious ideas sustained a nervous shock new things replaced the old to a perilous extent and the sober covenanting home with its scriptural furniture and catechism details was metamorphosed into a gala display of cheap vases alive with cupids nude and shocking flimsy gilt chairs with limited supporting powers and many striped draperies and cushions not at all religious the neighbors marveled at the expense and signal danger to each other but when mrs. amantha mccurry actually stayed away from church several sundays in succession the deacon concluded that her morals were toppling the neighbors held up their hands in holy horror regarding mrs. mccurry she dashed at andy a hundred times a day so often did she kiss him that andy in fear that no cheek would be left for his father kept blowing them out to make sure it was amazing how much she accomplished in these few days as the hour of arrival neared mrs. mccurry grew excited she rushed andy to the waverly station in a cab andy's first drive to fill up the waiting time she fed andy on current buns and mince pies such lavish prodigality she had never been guilty of before andy's brain whirled in giddy confusion and it is to be feared that his stomach was affected too when mr. mccurry appeared mrs. amantha mccurry flew into his arms burst into tears and squeezed hard what was left of him such a frantic display of love was so unwanted that the station master looked on in mild surprise and concluded that his neighbor mrs. amantha mccurry was very excitable and in a highly nervous condition so warm and sincere feelings sometimes appear to the onlooker who is not at all interested in the parties and not in the least concerned with events and who in fact should mind his own business thank god she cried my poor mon i'm nickel glad to see you never was i so happy poor lassie murmured the astonished man are you no feeling wheel the day wheel wheel indeed i should say you'll see that soon enough concluded mrs. mccurry exuberantly come home no gallantly and merrily the happy trio drove home in the cab charlie this is no my solemn religious lassie amantha thought mr. mccurry as he stared at his wife and gradually mr. mccurry awakened from a sustained stupor a grand celebration followed this bewildering reception mr. mccurry was sailing without a compass now and recklessly permitted himself to drift with the winds while though they were probably the church had lost its rudder since he had left old reiki there was nothing for him to do but climb into the boat and wobble along in the helpless bark with the wavering multitudes why they had even raffled a barrel of rum in one kirk and no one seemed to mind it did not matter apparently so he gave himself up completely to the full enjoyment of his belated christmas festival as mrs. mccurry had planned it and a really jolly christmas it was inclusive of plum puddings turkey mince pies shortbread current bun and best of all a sparkling glass of whiskey toddy oh mrs. amantha mccurry it warmed the cockles of mr. mccurry's heart in the evening as they sat beside a blazing fire such as andy had never seen mended there before mrs. mccurry turned to her husband affectionately and asked wheel dairy what do you think who are christmas jolliest i ever kind exclaimed the happy man slapping his hands together enthusiastically we'll hey another next year we've all indeed said mrs. mccurry with all her heart in the words at the mention of christmas andy started nervously was the matter bernie kindly inquired his mother nathan gasped the boy fearsomly mr. mccurry bent his eyes gravely on the boy remarking slowly why laddie you're as pale as a gaste that made matters worse andy glanced timidly toward the door the while didn't mind me dad it's it's nothing and the boy shivered slightly but mr. mccurry studied the boy's face and then also gazed at the open door hey you seen a spirit lad he asked deliberately poor andy nodded too afraid to speak just know pursued his father carefully no whispered the frightened child and now mrs. mccurry became interested when did you see a spirit laddie lost christmas mall they were all silent for a while and then mrs. mccurry gently inquired and where did you see the gaste andy pointed nervously to the door and why did you know tell us andy i couldn't apply poor laddie you look awful scared no i am mccull scared of the door paw and tears trickled down the lads pale face the door laddie suddenly exclaimed his mother a nod from andy wheel wheel laddie cried his mother remembering the night would you have me believe it were the time i found you gaping gaping so fearsomely at the door with the door so near andy was now too scared to speak the dell exclaimed his father and what did you see that suffrightened you it was your salt dad came the boy's timorous response mr. mccurry rubbed his eyes then rubbed his spectacles and put them on staring the while at andy in blank amazement and the light dawned in upon him slowly it leaked into his brain you saw a me lad the devil to his christmas nighty tie were even given up for dead and mrs. amantha mccurry believed but she did not tell it to the neighbors for it was andy's vision end of section three recording by melissa green section four of the rose colored world and other fantasies this is a liber vox recording all liber vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit liber vox dot org the rose colored world and other fantasies by ethyl mary brody the hermit of sagnae once upon a time in a little village of qubeck on the edge of the sagnae river where the rocks frown forever grew up a little garcon francewa by name in spirit francewa was a lonely isolated boy he played and fought with the boys of the village yet remained separate from them separate with refined nature of a poetic soul separate with a glowing spark of the saintess spree the strange dreamy girl song francewa who buried his spare hours from play among his flowers as the years went on a little girl grew up in the cottage next to francewa's home a petite hazel-eyed girl he sold it they called her fair is the narcissist among francewa's flowers and as sweet straight and pure she too was an isolated child but the isolation was that of frailty she never romped with the other children a delicate flower was he soldy light is a breath of wind and easily bent as the grass in the field windswept the years floated on he soldy and francewa drew together from opposite poles of life francewa was big and strong and hearty a robust blue-eyed garcon but the poetry of the flowers rhymed the natures of the two children they dreamed together the seasons through from the chill time of the crocus and the awakening of the hyacinth and the violet till the roses shed their leaves and the golden rod faded with the reddening of the autumnal foliage wonderful visions had francewa and he soldy some were sweet with fairies others dark and tragic like the sagané one day they sat under the trees in francewa's garden reading a weird tale from a book of fairy stories and the sunshine streamed through the branches flecking the brown curls of the boy as he read and falling on he soldy's pale face as she lay on the grass beside him the wind skipped down the sagané and tossed the waves with white foam the sun poured over the bare rocks the scrubby trees in the black waters throwing long fantastic shadows across the gray wilds of peak and cove bluish vapours floated above the rocky ramparts here and there a trickling streamlet tumbled down the proud precipices and the occasional note of a bird trilled from the stern solitudes a tender sound in the midst of granite silence remote and sweet it was a strange story they read together and wonderfully illustrated the boy and girl thrilled with its horrors it told of the adventures of a boy who had wandered by some mischance into a giant's palace hidden underground great stony sphinxes glared at him out of the cliff-like walls petrified grins mocked the frightened wanderer as he entered deeper into the cavernous passages and halls amid the glowering eyes and gaping mouths a boy lost himself yawning crevices opened to swallow him into an abyss of gloom black hands of rock were stretched out to grasp him as he hurried on great precipices of rock hung overhead is afraid to fall upon the terror-stricken child the boy felt that the walls would crush in upon him and kill him everywhere a maze of rocky windings everywhere a mist of impenetrable darkness rare gleams of light shone across the passages only to throw into terrifying relief the grinning faces and outstretched arms of stone the lonely wanderer pursued his trembling way fearful and despairing for the fear of being crushed to death haunted and tormented him they were in the midst of the tale when isoldi jumped up suddenly and caught the book at her françois's hands stop françois she cried in half terror i can't stand it anymore it is awful françois looked up coolly what's the matter with it i think it's fine said he i don't care if you do i won't hear another word of it never again and isoldi threw the book into the hedge françois got up quietly went over to the hedge and picked it up whereupon isoldi stamped her little foot and demanded defiantly françois what would you do if you were caught in a great awful place like that and could not get out françois sat in silence a while staring at his flowers i wouldn't mind at all if there were flowers in the palace and then glancing at isoldi and most of all if you were there but what if there were no flowers persisted isoldi half angry half inquisitive i'd have you and i'd rather have you than the flowers a million times answered françois compositely but what if i wasn't there what would you do pursued the fair inquire françois's face grew dark and he frowned i'd fight my way out he said determinedly why worried isoldi now bent on teasing because i couldn't live without you and i'd fight my way back to you and the flowers somehow and a cloud crossed françois's face as he glanced at the slim pale faced girl standing in the sunlight and if you couldn't do that queried isoldi beginning to be appeased i'd die bravely thinking of you isoldi and the flowers and françois set his lips firmly then isoldi ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck françois caught her passionately and kissed her sweet lips and the fairy tale ended for isoldi would never listen to it again françois and isoldi played together sang together and sometimes quarreled the quarrels were always mended by flowers and françois knowing how big and strong he was compared to pale petite isoldi always made the first advances over the hedge that separated the two homes françois flung some flowers and the flowers were violence so long as the violets bloomed françois and isoldi loved them and the beloved garden patch ever kept a space for these modest maids of flowerland the violets newly received by isoldi as a peace offering she offered her sweet red lips over the hedge and the breach was mended it was a wonderfully happy life they lived their school days were full of adventures when isoldi was in trouble françois helped her out when her lessons plotted in the slough of despond he lent a hand and a good brain and pulled his little sweetheart onto solid ground and so isoldi and françois grew up like twin flowers in spirit françois was like the deep dark saginae isoldi the stream that bubbled over the rocks and fell into the silent soul of the saginae as isoldi blossomed into womanhood her delicacy increased the fair features became transparent and the long white hands thin like rose leaves veined with the violet the hazel eyes grew larger brighter and a slight tinge of pink flushed her gentle cheeks françois smiled gaily but in his heart he began to wonder and to worry it seemed as if his fair flower was blossoming into its fullness of beauty only to fade days flew past as the two loved and wandered together isoldi was too frail to work so her days were spent among the flowers or by the river and when his day's work was done françois joined his fairy isoldi and the flowers were in the twilight they rambled by the saginae one moonlit night they wandered to the cliffs the sky was clear and the moon shone in full glory twinkling in ribbons of stars on the waves and shooting lights and shadows among the dark precipices and somber bays a palace steamer was slowly gliding up the river in the infinite twinnings of the saginae the moonlight struck a thwart the boughs or drifted in streams of silver sheen at the stern broken by the receding swells of the steamer like the starry tale of a comet towards a beautiful and solemn scene weird and poetic an endless shoreline of gloomy cliffs frigid in the cold moonlight and threatening in their dull massiveness followed the windings of the saginae isoldi wandered as the vessel glided on which way it would turn next and almost doubted at times whether it would find a way out at all as the barricade of rocks spread before it the defiant cliffs were but sparsely clad with trees which hid their rugged bare surfaces their jutting menacing boulders and overhanging rocks music floated from the salon of the vessel but its gaiety died among the silent precipices and the somber spirit of the saginae settled down again as the gay lights of the steamer vanished up the river indeed the saginae was rather a realization of the fantastic fairytale which he soldy in francewa had begun to read years ago and they were children its eeriness was something to be felt but not to be explained it was something inherent in the scenery especially by moonlight which defined the wild desolate cliffs in one part blurred them in another it was something suggestive and unfulfilled like a cry of agony from the human heart or a beautiful picture that has been marred forever the river flowed on unmindful of the world of waters ruffled by the steamer's screw it followed on between mountain peaks and amid unseen valleys breathing no word of the buried lands beneath breathing nothing of the lives lost in its black waves waves which laved few resting the places for man but beat continuously at the base of the impregnable cliffs in the weird river saginae for some time he soldy in francewa had stood looking out on the gloomy moonlit river and beyond to the stern frowning precipices and then he soldy broke the silence do you remember that horrid tale of the lost boy in the giant's palace which we read years ago you mean began to read suggested francewa with mock solemnity he soldy laughed i never let you finish it did i she said no but i remember it yet someday we shall read it through sherry he answered no indeed i won't listen to it she exclaimed half to finally francewa glanced down with the frail little girl beside him before he spoke and then said in a tender teasing tone despite all my training despite everything you are the same self-willed he soldy of those long ago days so he shall not read the harrowing tale if you don't like it he soldy smiled and then she said quietly i hope i shall be self-willed in heaven if shutting my ears to tragedy is being self-willed and that tale was a horrid tragedy sagini always makes me think of it those great cruel cliffs fancy tipping over in a rowboat out there on the river one might swim but could never scale those steep rocks and he soldy shuddered what gloomy thoughts on a night like this he soldy exclaimed the young man i was not thinking of myself i was thinking of you she returned as a thinking aloud well i'm not going to drown in the sagini cried francewa laughing he soldy was silent and a wistful look came into her face as she glanced up at francewa a stern expression had come into his fearless blue eyes as if he were having a struggle with some dark foreboding or cruel unwelcome thought suppose you had to live alone on one of those distant islands way over there in the river inquired he soldy softly i am not thinking of such things he soldy while i have you i will live and love but francewa bit his lip hard wouldn't you like to be a hermit ask he soldy again dreamily never burst out francewa passionately he soldy looked at him in surprise it's not like francewa to be otherwise than cool this sudden passionate outburst amazed her why demanded she and francewa caught her to his breast for answer and covered her face with his kisses but francewa never slept that night he soldy's thoughts had disturbed the depths of his soul's river the silence of pain to which he had been shutting his eyes he soldy was growing more frail every day many days of soft glowing joy which had risen with the dawn of love glided swiftly away and then came great sorrow for francewa he soldy frail always declined daily too weak for their rambles now she sat in a chair all day on the veranda and francewa spent every spare moment by her side francewa and he soldy knew now that the end was not far off and bravely the man endured his sorrow patiently resigned while he soldy lived and sweet were their last talks at sunset time when the day's work was done and the sleepy twittering of the birds announced the coming of night he soldy was peacefully gliding into eternity some sweet day she and francewa would be together in a world where flowers never faded and there would be flowers such beautiful flowers and always always violets and one sunny summer day the sweet spirit of his soldy faded away from the first great agony of loneliness fell upon francewa he gathered all his violets and laid them on his little sweetheart the violet among the violets modest gentle sweet quietly was the frail little body of his soldy laid in its last resting place and the flowers of each season came and went and the do's and the snows fell softly upon his soldy's grave day by day francewa's loneliness increased day by day he battled with the fevered spirit that beat him rush into the world and lose himself in its mad world long somber days were these of temptation and the fairy tale came back a tale of the boy shot among the cruel grinning grocks with no light and no refuge the stern solitude of the sagony pressed in upon him its reticence unrelaxed its majesty unsoftened its solitude unbroken its eeriness impenetrable and its cold dignity uncontrolled by the gentleness of the sunshine with a mingling of light shadow in distance here by the sagony near his soldy's grave he must live and endure in solitary agony francewa was being crushed but crushed for a purpose he could not see but the memory of his loved he soldy conquered then came the gift of the saintess spree peace francewa decided to join the priesthood and consecrate his life to good deeds and kindness on an aisle of the sagony alone aisle he built his log cabin he laid out a small vegetable garden he collected the herbs of the woods and extracted from them medicines and potions to use in sickness and the poor inhabitants soon learned to love and trust him he ministered to everyone who sought his aisle the aisle of peace it was called and francewa the hermit dwelt there to the end the wild storm of passion was over francewa gentle and loving likey soldy was living her life over again unconscious of its beauty the years rolled quietly by the aisle of peace years of usefulness robots shot out from the shore and soon found their way to the little landing of francewa's aisle he had spent his early days in prayer and solitude and vigils but now pilgrims and visitors sought him from everywhere for innate in francewa the hermit was a wonderful power of healing and inspiring rich and poor alike sought francewa the hermit and his fame spread abroad when lonely passenger sail passed his aisle he waved a welcome if barks were wrecked within reach of his rowboat his muscular arms swiftly brought him to the rescue and safety and warmth were found by his kindly hearth his hospitable roof waited all lonely strangers and generously he gave of his few comforts alone among the scrubby trees stood the hermit's cottage alone on an aisle of the sagony surrounded by the solitary peaks and somber cliffs its little garden sweet with violets and bright with the stray shrubs and flowers of his rocky realm but francewa growing old and every day the longing for his soldy ever alive became more painful he faltered in his steps his broad shoulders and big frame bent with the years and his hair turned snow white he grew frail and weak like he soldy the vegetable garden was neglected the herbs ungathered the potions ceased lost in his own sorrow the visitors and pilgrims soon ceased to come and the lone aisle of peace was deserted by all none whom he had helped secured him now none whom he had blessed aided him he aged alone sorrowing but the spirit of his soldy never left him day by day he shrunk into feebleness day by day he neglected his bodily wants and prayed prayed longingly hungrily and one sweet summer day the day on which his soldy died francewa the hermit sat on his porch the wind glided whisperingly through the trees waves laved peacefully among the rocks the smell of the violets breathed tenderly on the air francewa sat alone a tiny bunch of violets in his hands silently he was dreaming over the wonderful long ago the dear days of his soldy how his heart cried out for her he soldy he soldy and then a great light fell round about him and in its midst the fair face and sweet hazel eyes of his soldy smiled upon him he soldy he soldy he cried in ecstasy what would you have she asked take me take me he answered pitifully that was been faithful to me indeed she said that is nothing he murmured i loved you that was done all things for my sake god loves you as you have loved me she returned gently francewa the hermit held out his arms and cried i love you i love you he soldy he soldy come answered she smiling his only angels smile and francewa's spirit fled with hers to the land of eternal flowers and the world wondered and went on its way for francewa the hermit was found dead alone with a bunch of violets in his hands and the world marveled at his choice of a lonely life with the whirl of mad joys blazing around him why waste precious days on a lone isle the man was mad so the fairytale of francewa andy soldy ended too beautiful for worldly minds to understand too unselfish for earthborn beings to comprehend just a dream of love between a man and a woman but a love that is as rare as rubies end of section four section five of the rose colored world and other fantasies this is a libravox recording all libravox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libravox.org recording by melissa green the rose colored world and other fantasies by ethyl mary brody the princess and the cupbearer in the days of the fairies there was once a great princess a beautiful princess dark eyes like the deep sea glowed proudly upon the world the pride of innocence dark chestnut hair waved freely on every breeze the freedom of ignorance grace and goodness molded her heart and frame the grace of unconscious womanhood the goodness of the fairy godmother and loved by all in her kingdom was this princess beautiful in the court was it known that a great betrothal was sealed in the childhood of the loved princess a betrothal to a great prince when the princess near the age of twenty one the glorious marriage was to be consummated and queendom was to sit on her fair brow for the princess beautiful was still a child and the king and queen were long dead only once had the princess seen the prince years ago as little children they had caught a sunny glimpse of one another only a glimpse but years had passed years of sunlight and shadow and no prince came years had passed and the princess grew in pride why should she choose whom the realm preferred why this one prince were there no others by what right had her king father sealed her life away years added to the anger of the princess she thought just anger and none of this prince would she have unless love too came with him and that was scarce likely indeed she had no need of his love when the ancient cupbearer died it was summertime around the palace the scent of roses streamed from the garden but the princess mourned her faithful servant pages were dispatched with the news to the surrounding villages the princess needed a new cupbear and the sun bathed her fair face as she stood weeping on the palace terrace no thought had she for the butterflies or the birds who fluttered near and loved in the sunshine no sweet note of the summer wind as it harped among the trees touched her ear it was the birth of sorrow to the princess but a gentle beginning and the heart of the girl softened in the faint gray light in a day of sunniest splendor came the new cupbearer a day of violet clouds and stillness a day of orchard bloom the melody of birdland shrilled everywhere roses breathed and whispered on the terrace sunlight and shadow danced together in the woodlands and the princess smiled sadly as she watched the play of the fountains and listened to the merry splash of the water a custom herself she must to this new cupbearer but army how the princess mourned the ancient one the faithful one of her palace home many days had the new cupbearer been at the palace humble was he very humble very thoughtful but the old reserve of the princess came back he was not the ancient cupbearer so the servant spent hard days days of lowly service days of gentle attention days when the princess hotly ignored him days when she proudly commanded the least fault brought a flash to her eyes and if he so much as lifted his eyes to hers she flashed and was angry and if by accident he touched her hand in serving she ordered him away the softness of the princess hid in a citadel the old cupbearer was dead an intruder was this new one this youthful cupbearer nothing asked the princess about this new cupbearer she did not care he did his duties was not that enough but all in the palace soon learned to love the new cupbearer he was kind and he was true and as brave as he was handsome but the princess passed on her way mourning over the ashes of the dead with the sunlight splashing over the palace the terrace the fountains and the roses the red red roses in the garden of the princess grew one lovely rose bush roses they were as red as the dawn and sweet as the breathing dews of eventide every day the cupbearer gathered a rose from the bush and laid it by the cup of the princess and there it faded on notice and rose by rose laid he fresh and tender as the months glided into autumn and the princess observed nothing so they all faded and the cupbearer sadly tore their leaves and threw them to the winds for the princess he did nothing but the ashes of the ancient and winter came a pace one sulky day the lonely princess wandered away on the snows far away up a mountainside she clamored into the rarefied air but a storm burst on the mountain peak great clouds of snow hurled their arms around the princess wild winds roared through gully and veil white walls of snow clung to the cliffs and soon the princess was lost in the mad whirl of wind and snow night closed in and all the palace was anxious no princess came home lights flickered over the countryside and through the woods as watchers searched for the lost woman no one thought of the mountain no one but the cupbearer silently alone he sped across the snows rapidly beat his heart as anxiety winged his heels reckless of his life on and on he rushed through the wild storm guided by an inward light brighter than the sun upward he struggled on the mountainside careless of cliff and boulder upward he braved the hurricane of wind and hail for the heart of the cupbearer shown like a guiding star weary and frightened and weak the lost princess lay beneath the fallen rock timid of the storm's power lonely in the wail of the gale only a woman after all gently the cupbearer raised the lifeless princess warmly he nestled her against his breast and firmly he trod down the mountainside a cupbearer indeed but the man of the palace and days passed for the sick princess sore weary days they were days of gray light for the cupbearer but again the sun darted among the roses and the ice of the fountains melted into bubbles and once more the cupbearer served his princess but his hands trembled as he served when duties were done he slipped away to his lonely room and the princess wondered no more were the red roses gathered from the garden they faded neglected on the bush no more tender rose leaves sped upon the winds messages broken messages from the cupbearer's heart day by day the princess looked and longed for the roses she dared not ask the cupbear don was breaking through the gray light of her mind the roses smelled sweeter than they ever had how warmly gleamed the sun how merrily danced at the fountain what enchantment lingered in the notes of the bird how happily loved the butterflies and what liar was this that sang and thrilled in the woodland the wind ah me how beautiful the world so beautiful and thus came love to the princess but the child of sorrow grows to womanhood one dark day the cupbearer appeared no more no gentle service no quiet attentions greeted the princess and violets mingled their fragrance with the red roses and long nights the lone princess gazed dry eyed up to the stars would this inward pain never cease this hunger never be satisfied how cruelly the red roses breathed upon the night they sickened her how silent the great dark sky would it never never speak and answer what she dared not ask the day drew near for the marriage of the princess to be celebrated great and splendid preparations filled the palace with busy pages grand dames and gay courtiers the rustle of silk and velvet the clink of spurred heels laughter and minstrelsy echoed in the tapestry halls and out in the courtyard wreaths of flowers festooned the palace walls and silken pennons flaunted with sprightly grace from every window red roses trailed from the ancient tapestries red roses drooped from the old portraits of kings and queens red roses filled the great palace with their fragrance the terrace hummed with converse and sang with music the avenues thotted beneath horses hooves and the glint of satin and steel flashed in the park woods and in the rose gardens but no one dared touch the lone bush of the red roses so the princess had commanded and no one guessed the truth far away rang out a bugle call the prince was coming to her tower hastened the princess how beautiful she looked on her wedding day anxiously her eyes scanned at the many avenues and cruelly she dug her pink nails into the palms of her hands how bravely she lifted her proud head a lack how the blue eyes filled with unshed tears but her nostrils quivered proudly and the fire of battle burned in her eyes it must be done splendidly rode the glittering array of soldiers winding along the avenues what a clatter of spears what a flame of steel gleaming in the sunshine how merrily they rode as if to a festival indeed the horses shook their main and lifted their hooves in the proud consciousness of being ah me how glorious and how sad and the breath of the red roses distilled in the air the heart cry of the princess broke amid its sweetness but no one knew and no one saw on came the glittering the dauntless array where rode this wonderful prince ah there was he in the lead but a visor hid his face twas well what pretty work lay before him on this the wedding day of the princess let him hide his face twas soon enough seen before many hours crossed the red roses down from the tower came the princess and into the great throne room she glided like a swan on the surface of a serene sea darkly gloomed the wanescoating of the old oak walls and darkly frowned the ancestral portraits of king and queen and dully hung the ancient tapestries but joy of joys how sweet the red roses on her throne how thickly the pages had empowered the gilded tyranny what cared she a red rose large full and beautiful nestled in her bosom slowly the great hall doors were opened quickly the hall filled with knights and ladies softly quivered the music from on-scene galleries and there in the entrance stood the prince visor clad in silver armor long white plumes flowing from his crust and still the fragrance from the red roses weighed upon the atmosphere steadily stood the princess on her golden throne among the roses pale as new-blown snow was she eyes afire with a wild light in the silence of the assembled courtiers and dames she spoke not to this man give I my hand not to any prince however fair his realm however great his treasures however powerful his armies no my heart is given already my life goes with it and humble indeed is my choice even would I give my throne for my love even my golden crown and my choice is the cup bearer there was silence for the space of a few moments in the grand assembly and then the princess clutched the red rose at her breast and stood aghast trembling for the prince had raised his visor as he stood amid his knights smiling to his beloved princess he said softly yet so clearly that it could be heard to the uttermost corners of the great throne room like a silver chime breaking across a silent sea the cup bearer I am he and prince as well and I shall serve you my princess so long as red roses last end of section five recording by melissa green section six of the rose colored world and other fantasies this is a libravox recording all libravox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libravox.org the rose colored world and other fantasies by ethyl mary brody Naomi's wedding bells the sun dawned gaily on Naomi's wedding day springtime had filled the garden with flowers and trees with songsters fleecy clouds drifted across the sky and vanished in the purple haze of the distant mountains over the fields and meadows paused the heavy odor of the new moan hay which lay piled in golden brown heaps the orchards hid beneath a mist of pink and white blossoms their fragrance distilling with the warmth of the sunshine from the meadows clanged the cowbells and sounded the stuttering whale of the sheep and from the tall grasses in the leafy hedges chirped the cricket the soft southern note of the wind chanted through the woodland behind Miss Hattie Durand's cottage and a little village drowsed in balmy ease Naomi Durand was an orphan years ago her parents had passed from this life and had left her to the care of an only sister of mr. Durand's so Naomi journeyed from her home in the southern states to dwell in the little cottage at the village of mertonville with her maiden aunt Naomi was only 19 years old and a pretty golden haired blue-eyed girl a merry-hearted girl was she fond of dress and admiration and a good time she was beloved by all the swains of the village Naomi Durand was not given to brooding or reading or to thinking much about anything except fun indeed her life had rippled through the village bubbling and happy like the stream beneath the village bridge and no one ever associated tragedy with the cheery blue eyes and gay some laugh of Naomi Durand mertonville was a picturesque village of the western states it was set in the cup of the foothills on Naomi's wedding day soft summer mists clung to the hilltop surrounding it fading into the purple gray of the far away rocky mountains a violet haze lingered in the meadows beyond its straggling vine clad cottages the stream beneath the village bridge gurgled indolently on its way winding through a ravine and so losing itself among the hills and dales passing through the village was a main road on which was situated miss hetty durand's cottage the road passed among the cottages and out again as if mertonville were too unimportant for even a pause at the humble village in on this sweet day the foliage of tree and hush gleamed at its greenest and the air breathed fresh and fragrant the hum of tiny insects and the clucking of fowls blended their monotonous sounds with the hypnotic spell of a warm summer day in an american village the villagers were quiet folk as mr. and was not well off from a money standpoint the service would be a simple one in the cottage only a few friends had been invited to witness the ceremony there was no bustle nor excitement about the preparations mr. and arranged everything in a gentle way all her own except for the unusual floral display in the cottage no stranger would have guessed how important a day it was for her miss hetty durand was a tender hearted woman flowers betrayed more of her sentiment and feeling than any number of fine phrases or golden coins in the midst of her old-fashioned garden among the ferns vines and blossoms this quaint maiden lady was as sweet as any flower in her old lace cap and purple silk gown on neomy's wedding day everything was in readiness at three o'clock the guests were beginning to arrive and the youngsters of the village had collected outside the fence to watch proceedings alec mcdonald had a long road to travel to wed his bride he lived in a village among the mountains and a ride of many miles lay between the cottage of miss hetty durand and his dwelling it was a dangerous road he had to ride the trails had cut rough and ruddy with recent rains and great torrents had burst from the mountains many villages and low-lying lands were flooded in the spring freshets avalanches had started from the mountain sides loosened by the rains and wildly rushed down the slopes there were tragic tales of riders who had crossed the mountains in early spring for sudden storms had swept the peaks lives had been broken beneath landslips or born to eternity on the turbid swirling waters of the mountain streams the sun fell softly into the little parlor of the cottage a light wind fluttered the muslin curtains like a spirit from a happier world and stirred the vines which draped the walls almost overpowering was the distilled sweetness of the flowers suggestive of sadness as well as of gladness miss hetty durand with a smile half sorrowful was arranging a bouquet of pinks and violets in a dainty vase when the maid of honor isabel vane entered the room well dear how is Naomi now softly inquired miss hetty durand Naomi's all right answered isabel quietly but she cannot stand the ringing of the doorbell she suggests leaving the door open as it is such a warm day the guests can enter without formality as they know us all so well mr. and scrutinized isabel's face in surprise and then inquired what bell the doorbell i suppose i haven't noticed any bells ringing but Naomi seems to hear them remarked isabel poor child i expect she's a bit nervous naturally indeed exclaimed isabel quickly she looks as cool and calm as your violets well dear you can tell Naomi that the door has been opened for at least an hour and the bell has not rung once today i thought it hadn't returned isabel but Naomi seemed disturbed about it so i came to tell you miss hetty looked up mildly from her flowers it is very odd said she very however i guess i might feel the same way on my wedding day returned isabel laughing perchance you might smiled miss hetty are you coming up to see her before the ceremony asked isabel changing the subject yes dear when my friend mrs. paul comes i shall leave her to look after my guests while i pay a visit upstairs to Naomi so isabel returned to the little bride but after isabel had left the room miss hetty added to herself strange there are no bells in this neighborhood that she could possibly hear unless the village youngsters are playing tricks i shall just watch i don't approve of practical jokes least of all on a wedding day children should be dealt with severely for making an occasion ridiculous that should at least be dignified as well as happy miss hetty durand stood between the parlor curtains to watch the youngsters the children were running about and laughing but nothing unwanted occurred it was some time after three o'clock when miss hetty left her friend mrs paul in charge of her guests and went upstairs to pay visit to the bride Naomi in her simple bridal dress was lovelier on her wedding day than she had ever been her large blue eyes were happy and yet wistful her fair skin tinged with a warm pink from suppressed excitement her mouth trembling between a laugh and tears as the sunshine fell into the little room it broke into a halo of glory around Naomi's golden hair Naomi was seated near the window overlooking the garden and isabel was standing by it watching the gate for the bridegroom was expected at any moment alec has not come yet auntie said Naomi glancing up from her as mr and entered the room no dearie but he may come any minute now miss hetty drew up a chair beside Naomi and seated herself is about gave me your message auntie well dear have the bell stopped ringing asked miss hetty smiling Naomi shuddered a little before she answered hesitatingly not altogether i think you must be mistaken or perhaps you are growing deaf and Naomi wound her arms around mr rand's neck i guess Naomi is dreaming laughed isabel love seems to affect most people in that way lovers would dream their lives away if envious mortals did not interfere here am i for instance very envious Naomi forced a smile i guess isabel is growing deaf too i might set up an institution for deaf people and take you too as free patients when i cure you i shall send in a big bill like the quacks please pay it indeed cried isabel sossily i think mr rand and i shall organize a circus and exhibit you as a marvel of hearing having ears to hear things unheard by the common everyday eardrum miss hattie glanced from one girl to the other half doubting the seriousness about the bells i suppose you are playing a joke on me you want to frighten me with something weird this is your last fling at your old auntie i suppose to cheer her up at parting with her girly and mr rand kissed the bride affectionately it is Naomi's joke then not mine said isabel gravely Naomi glanced out of the window before she replied for her lips were trembling a little while friends whether you accept it as a joke or not the fact remains the same since before three o'clock i have heard bells ringing such strange strange bells miss hattie took the little bride's face in her hands and looked tenderly into the big blue eyes which gazed back at her with a pathetic sort of happiness i never thought you were a queer girl Naomi indeed you have always been a very practical little woman in most things dress and fun accepted you look as sensible and as pretty as ever perhaps more so today this being your wedding day but your talk is uncanny as alec mcdonald would say alec may not have a chance to say at all if he does not hurry up Naomi still stared out of the window but she tilted her head saucely look at the time nearly half past three and not here yet a woman may be permitted to be rather vain on her wedding day and rather late alec must be fixing up fine and a man should never be vain at any time to his place to admire woman for her prettiness to love her for her vanities to seek her for her own sweet self whether others agree or disagree and then to marry her on time five minutes more and alec's chance is gone forever and ever then i fear alec is doomed sighed miss hattie with a smile do give him five minutes grace isabel pleaded mischievously five minutes grace you ask murmur Naomi softly i shall give him eternity and if he comes late and wastes your time in this way after you are married inquired isabel bent on teasing Naomi was silent a moment i shall not always be so extravagant with my time as i am today she said slowly perchance i may never have to wait for alec again alec beware take heed to your ways and walk with care amen laughed isabel do you see anyone coming asked Naomi changing the subject rather nervously isabel lifted the window higher and gazed up the road no one yet mr. and arose well dears i must go down to my guests my darling she whispered as she kissed the bride once upon a time my mischievous merry baby that a romantic rumping girl and now my little woman all together lovely and lovable drawing an old lace handkerchief from a capacious pocket miss hattie durand wiped her eyes and went downstairs sighing to herself what will i do without my little Naomi but fate was to be kinder to mr. and in her loneliness than to poor little Naomi the bride and what about the bells Naomi inquired isabel the merry meant leaving her face as mr. and left the room they are ringing still such strange strange bells ringing still gasped isabel with a shiver yes dear and why didn't you tell your auntie just now about them i kept up for aunt heady's sake i do not wish to worry her brave girl murmured isabel taking the bride's cold hand in hers say nothing more to her isabel not a word dear i don't understand why they ring in ring it makes me think of the bell in the church tower when it tolls for the hush interrupted her companion don't speak of such things dearie but it is true they are ringing ringing such strange strange bells isabel did not answer but slipped her arm around the bride tenderly and so they sat in silence for some time they listened to the happy hum of voices downstairs and watched the leaves and the flowers as the wind gently tossed them with a soft whispering sound as if breathing to them the message of the strange strange bells no one yet side Naomi isabel leaned out of the window there is someone coming riding down the road alec gasped Naomi trembling riding so fast continued isabel not noticing Naomi's cry alec again broke from Naomi's white lips yes yes exclaimed isabel excitedly alec at last alec cried Naomi trembling violently and where is his friend bob knells why the rider is alone burst from isabel in amazement alone Naomi clasped her hands tightly he looks as if he were riding for his life he rides so fast continued isabel excitedly so fast merman Naomi mechanically dear me what has happened he has no hat on his clothes hang like lead as if soaked with water gracious it is bob knells i wonder where alec isabel stopped short horror struck and glanced quickly at Naomi Naomi had seen Naomi knew like a lily drooping for a want of water so Naomi leaned against the wall near the window her lips parted her eyes staring with fear for life seemed to be slipping slipping from her grasp a specter had risen before her with the bells the strange strange bells and it was alec alec alec she moaned you are dead dead sh i hear the bells ringing ringing ringing come Naomi whispered isabel leading the bride to the bed gently seating her on it and holding her cold hands in her own i hear the bells ringing ringing louder louder than ever oh alec alec moaned the bride shivering i understand now all afternoon i felt the tragedy i kept up for aunt heady sake alec i joked to chase the feeling away you are dead alec you died when the strange bells first began to ring oh alec dearest you are gone gone never shall we meet again in this world never alec never Naomi pressed her hands together and wrung them cruelly listen listen isabel do you hear ringing ringing ringing Naomi and her bridal array remained seated on the bed the orange blossoms lay in her labs and she fingered the leaves tenderly she had removed the wreath from her hair she sat there staring staring at nothing hearing nothing knowing nothing if she heard it was only the ringing ringing of the bells if she knew anything it was that alec had passed for all time out of her existence if she saw it was the face of the spectre of alec cold and lifeless dead presentiment had become fear and fear was soon to be reality for alec was dead Ms. Hattie Durand opened the door softly her face white as Naomi's my poor darling god help you she whispered tenderly lovingly but Naomi heard not Naomi had fainted the strange strange bells the toll of death and of section six