The Lost Garden by Max Brand

Author:Max Brand [Brand, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Short Stories
Publisher: Roy Glashan's Library
Published: 2014-11-13T23:00:00+00:00

“Ah, what a garden it is—that place of dead beauty!

Often have I prayed that I may never wake up until the dream

is finished and the tryst that is never kept is at last fulfilled….”

“‘I stand on the balcony looking down the winding stairs which lead into the heart of my lost garden, and waiting, for I know that someone else is coming to the tryst. I raise my lantern and look across the space of the enclosed court to an opposite balcony with steps winding down just as they do from mine—’”

I cried out, bewildered: “Why, Arsigny, he was describing your own garden here just as I’ve seen it ofttimes by the moonlight.”

“Hush,” said Arsigny, “for God’s sake, hush.”

And he went on with Baron’s tale:

“‘And as I stand there waiting, with the lantern high above my head, the door of the other balcony opens and a white figure steps out and the moon strikes across her face. She is lovely; how very beautiful she is! For her face is that of Marie—Marie Vivrain.

“‘She stretches her arm to me and cries: “Amor vincit!” love conquers— and we turn to run down those winding steps to our lost garden below. But just as we turn to descend, the dream goes out, and our tryst in the garden is never fulfilled.’

“Here Baron stopped, but he went on bravely again, though in a lower voice: ‘For you see, I have had this same dream many times, Arsigny. I have had it many times, and always it is the same in every detail, and always it goes out at the moment when she and I turn to run down the steps into the garden.

“‘I have prayed that I might never wake until that dream is finished. Now I see that it will be better for me if I never dream again. All my life I have looked for the garden and the lady of my dream. Tonight I found the lady. My heart stopped when I stood there in the crowd and looked up to her, and when she came down to the mob I followed her. I could not help it. I had stopped thinking; I was only desiring a single word with her, and it seemed that I had rather hear her speak once than to listen to all the music in the world.

“‘I overtook her, as you know, here in this room. Here I caught her hands, and told her my name and how long I had loved the thought of her. But you saw. She was too frightened to understand. Do you believe me, Arsigny?’

“In those bright eyes there was a devil begging me not to believe, but I nodded my head. Then he stared at the floor a moment and answered: ‘Of course, this is the only way. I shall leave New Orleans tomorrow on an extended trip around the world. We shall never meet again.’

“I took his hand as I replied: ‘Mr. Baron, I hope to God that we never do.

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