Page:Crome Yellow.djvu/176
The melody drooped and climbed again with a kind of easy languor; the warm darkness seemed to pulse like blood about them.
“Le lendemain, nouvelle affaire:
Pour le berger le troc fut bon . . .”
“Here are the steps,” cried Denis. He guided his companions over the danger, and in a moment they had the turf of the yew-tree walk under their feet. It was lighter here, or at least it was just perceptibly less dark; for the yew walk was wider than the path that had led them under the lea of the house. Looking up, they could see between the high black hedges a strip of sky and a few stars.
“Car il obtint de la bergere . . .”
Went on Ivor, and then interrupted himself to shout, “I’m going to run down,” and he was off, full speed, down the invisible slope, singing unevenly as he went:
“Trente baisers pour un mouton.”
The others followed. Denis shambled in the rear, vainly exhorting everyone to caution: the slope was steep, one might break one’s neck. What was wrong with