Волны

           ’

           ’Now,’saidBernard,’letusexplore.Thereisthewhitehouselyingamongthetrees.Itliesdownthereeversofarbeneathus.Weshallsinklikeswimmersjusttouchingthegroundwiththetipsoftheirtoes.Weshallsinkthroughthegreenairoftheleaves,Susan.Wesinkaswerun.Thewavescloseoverus,thebeechleavesmeetaboveourheads.Thereisthestableclockwithitsgilthandsshining.Thosearetheflatsandheightsoftheroofsofthegreathouse.Thereisthestable-boyclatteringintheyardinrubberboots.ThatisElvedon.

           ’Nowwehavefallenthroughthetree-topstotheearth.Theairnolongerrollsitslong,unhappy,purplewavesoverus.Wetouchearth;wetreadground.Thatistheclose-clippedhedgeoftheladies’garden.Theretheywalkatnoon,withscissors,clippingroses.Nowweareintheringedwoodwiththewallroundit.ThisisElvedon.Ihaveseensignpostsatthecross-roadswithonearmpointing"ToElvedon".Noonehasbeenthere.Thefernssmellverystrong,andthereareredfungusesgrowingbeneaththem.Nowwewakethesleepingdawswhohaveneverseenahumanform;nowwetreadonrottenoakapples,redwithageandslippery.Thereisaringofwallroundthiswood;nobodycomeshere.Listen!Thatistheflopofagianttoadintheundergrowth;thatisthepatterofsomeprimevalfir-conefallingtorotamongtheferns.

           ’Putyourfootonthisbrick.Lookoverthewall.ThatisElvedon.Theladysitsbetweenthetwolongwindows,writing.Thegardenerssweepthelawnwithgiantbrooms.Wearethefirsttocomehere.Wearethediscoverersofanunknownland.