DOI article:
Harland, Henry: Flower o' the Clove
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.25498#0087
By Henry Harland 83
“ This is positively the first day since my arrival in England
that I haven’t been, more or less,” she answered.
“ Oh ?” he questioned sympathetically.
“ You can’t think how depaysee I’ve felt. After having lived
all one’s life in Prague, suddenly to find oneself translated to the
mistress-ship of an English country house.”
“ In Prague ? I thought you had lived in Rome and Paris,
chiefly.”
“ Prague is a figure of rhetoric. I mean the capital of Bohemia.
Wasn’t my father a sculptor ? And wasn’t I born in a studio ?
And haven’t my playmates and companions always been of Flori-
zel the loyal subjects ? So whether you call it Rome or Paris or
Florence or Naples, it was Prague, none the less.”
“ At that rate, I live in Prague myself, and we’re compatriots,”
said Will.
“That’s no doubt why I don’t feel homesick any more.
Where two of the faithful are gathered together they can form a
miniature Prague of their own. If I decide to stay in England,
I shall send for a lot of my Prague friends to come and visit me,
and you can send for an equal number of yours; and then we’ll
turn this bright particular corner of the British Empire into a
province of Bohemia, and the County may be horrified with
reason. But meanwhile, let’s be Pragueians in practice as well as
theory. Let’s go to the strawberry beds, and steal some straw-
berries.”
She walked a little in front of him. Her garden-hat had come
off, and she was swinging it at her side, by its ribbons. Will
noticed the strong, lithe sway and rhythm of her body, as she
moved. “ What a woman she is,” he thought; “ how one feels
her sex.” And with that, he all at once became aware of a
singular depression. “Surely,” a malevolent little voice within him
argued,
“ This is positively the first day since my arrival in England
that I haven’t been, more or less,” she answered.
“ Oh ?” he questioned sympathetically.
“ You can’t think how depaysee I’ve felt. After having lived
all one’s life in Prague, suddenly to find oneself translated to the
mistress-ship of an English country house.”
“ In Prague ? I thought you had lived in Rome and Paris,
chiefly.”
“ Prague is a figure of rhetoric. I mean the capital of Bohemia.
Wasn’t my father a sculptor ? And wasn’t I born in a studio ?
And haven’t my playmates and companions always been of Flori-
zel the loyal subjects ? So whether you call it Rome or Paris or
Florence or Naples, it was Prague, none the less.”
“ At that rate, I live in Prague myself, and we’re compatriots,”
said Will.
“That’s no doubt why I don’t feel homesick any more.
Where two of the faithful are gathered together they can form a
miniature Prague of their own. If I decide to stay in England,
I shall send for a lot of my Prague friends to come and visit me,
and you can send for an equal number of yours; and then we’ll
turn this bright particular corner of the British Empire into a
province of Bohemia, and the County may be horrified with
reason. But meanwhile, let’s be Pragueians in practice as well as
theory. Let’s go to the strawberry beds, and steal some straw-
berries.”
She walked a little in front of him. Her garden-hat had come
off, and she was swinging it at her side, by its ribbons. Will
noticed the strong, lithe sway and rhythm of her body, as she
moved. “ What a woman she is,” he thought; “ how one feels
her sex.” And with that, he all at once became aware of a
singular depression. “Surely,” a malevolent little voice within him
argued,