DOI Artikel:
D'Arcy, Ella: White magic
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27812#0063
By Ella D'Arcy
White Magic
T SPENT one evening last summer with my friend Mauger,
in the little town of Jacques-le-Port. He pro-
nounces his name Major, by-the-bye, it being a quaint custom of
the Islands to write proper names one way and speak them another,
thus serving to bolster up that old, old story of the German
savant's account of the difficulties of the English language—" where
you spell a man's name Verulam," says he reproachfully, "and
pronounce it Bacon."
Mauger and I sat in the pleasant wood-panelled parlour behind
the shop, from whence all sorts of aromatic odours found their
way in through the closed door to mingle with the fragrance of
figs, Ceylon tea, and hot constituting the excellent
meal spread before us. The large old-fashioned windows were
wide open, and I looked straight out upon the harbour, fiUed with
holiday yachts, and the wonderful azure sea.
Over against the other islands, opposite, a gleam of white
streaked the water, white clouds hung motionless in the blue sky^
and a tiny boat with white sails passed out round Falla Point. A
white butterfly entered the room to flicker in gay uncertain curves
above the cloth, and a warm reflected light played over the slender
rat-tailed forks and spoons, and raised by a tone or two the colour
of
White Magic
T SPENT one evening last summer with my friend Mauger,
in the little town of Jacques-le-Port. He pro-
nounces his name Major, by-the-bye, it being a quaint custom of
the Islands to write proper names one way and speak them another,
thus serving to bolster up that old, old story of the German
savant's account of the difficulties of the English language—" where
you spell a man's name Verulam," says he reproachfully, "and
pronounce it Bacon."
Mauger and I sat in the pleasant wood-panelled parlour behind
the shop, from whence all sorts of aromatic odours found their
way in through the closed door to mingle with the fragrance of
figs, Ceylon tea, and hot constituting the excellent
meal spread before us. The large old-fashioned windows were
wide open, and I looked straight out upon the harbour, fiUed with
holiday yachts, and the wonderful azure sea.
Over against the other islands, opposite, a gleam of white
streaked the water, white clouds hung motionless in the blue sky^
and a tiny boat with white sails passed out round Falla Point. A
white butterfly entered the room to flicker in gay uncertain curves
above the cloth, and a warm reflected light played over the slender
rat-tailed forks and spoons, and raised by a tone or two the colour
of