The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. ’ The expression on Emile Gosse’s face was vicious under the smile. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. . "You soon shall," rejoined Sheppard.
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