Purchase one of 1st World Library's Classic Books and help support
our free internet library of downloadable eBooks. Visit us online
at www.1stWorldLibrary.ORG - - There is much of life passed on the
balcony in a country where the summer unrolls in six moon-lengths,
and where the nights have to come with a double endowment of
vastness and splendor to compensate for the tedious, sun-parched
days. And in that country the women love to sit and talk together
of summer nights, on balconies, in their vague, loose, white
garments, - men are not balcony sitters, - with their sleeping
children within easy hearing, the stars breaking the cool darkness,
or the moon making a show of light - oh, such a discreet show of
light - through the vines. And the children inside, waking to go
from one sleep into another, hear the low, soft mother-voices on
the balcony, talking about this person and that, old times, old
friends, old experiences; and it seems to them, hovering a moment
in wakefulness, that there is no end of the world or time, or of
the mother-knowledge; but, illimitable as it is, the mother-voices
and the mother-love and protection fill it all, - with their
mother's hand in theirs, children are not afraid even of God, - and
they drift into slumber again, their little dreams taking all kinds
of pretty reflections from the great unknown horizon outside, as
their fragile soap-bubbles take on reflec-tions from the sun and
clouds.
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