Swann that the fish was biting--when I was
obliged to run after my father and grandfather, who were calling me, and
were surprised that I had not followed them along the little path,
climbing up hill towards the open fields, into which they had already
turned. I found the whole path throbbing with the fragrance of
hawthorn-blossom. The hedge resembled a series of chapels, whose walls
were no longer visible under the mountains of flowers that were heaped
upon their altars; while underneath, the sun cast a square of light upon
the ground, as though it had shone in upon them through a window; the
scent that swept out over me from them was as rich, and as circumscribed
in its range, as though I had been standing before the Lady-altar, and the
flowers, themselves adorned also, held out each its little bunch of
glittering stamens with an air of inattention, fine, radiating 'nerves' in
the flamboyant style of architecture, like those which, in church, framed
the stair to the rood-loft or closed the perpendicular tracery of the
windows, but here spread out into pools of fleshy white, like
strawberry-beds in spring.
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