.. a
fragrant goddess."
And meditating with half his mind, he admired the endurance of his
horse with the other, who, though he could neither trot, nor gallop,
nor walk, could amble deliciously.
"If not a meditative animal himself, his gait conduces to
meditation," Owen said, and he continued to dream that art could
only be said to have flourished among Mediterranean peoples, until
he was roused from his reverie by his horse, who suddenly pricked up
his ears and broke into a canter. He had been travelling since six
in the morning, and it was now evening; but he was fresh enough to
prick up his ears, scenting, no doubt, an encampment, the ashes of
former fires, the litter left by some wayfarers, desert wanderers,
bedouins, Hebrews.
Owen began his dream again, and he could do so without danger, for
his horse hardly required the direction of the bridle even in the
thick wood; and while admiring his horse's sagacity in avoiding the
trees he pursued his theological fancies, an admirable stillness
gathering the while, shadows descending, unaccompanied by the
slightest wind, and no sound. Yes, a faint sound! And reigning in
his horse, he listened, and all the Arabs about him listened, to the
babble coming up through the evening--a soft liquid talking like the
splashing of water, or the sound of wings, or the mingling of both,
some language more liquid than Italian.
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