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English
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This was the poem, which he called "The Northern Sphinx":— Sphinx of the North, with subtler smile Than hers who in the yellow South, With make believe mysterious mouth, Deepens the ennui of the Nile; And, with no secret left to tell, A worn and withered old coquette, Dreams sadly that she draws us yet, With antiquated charm and spell: Tell me your secret, Sphinx,—for mine! THIS WAS THE POEM WHICH HE CALLED THE NORTHERN SPHINX SPHINX OF THE NORTH WITH SUTLER SMILE THAN HERS WHO IN THE YELLOW SOUTH WOULD MAKE BELIEVE MYSTERIOUS MOUTH DEEPENS THE ENNUI OF THE NILE AND WITH NO SECRET LEFT TO TELL A WORN AND WITHERED OLD COQUETTE DREAMS SADLY THAT SHE DRAWS US YET WITH ANTIQUATED CHARM AND SPELL TELL ME YOUR SECRET SPHINX FOR MINE
nite forebodings come over him as he looked at her!—But he was growing as childish as Beatrice. Surely midnight, a dark wood, a lantern, and a death-mask, with two owls whistling to each other across the valley, were enough to account for any number of forebodings! But Antony shivered, for all that, as he locked the door and hastened back again down the wood. CHAPTER III THE NORTHERN SPHINX Antony had not written a poem to his wife since their little girl Wonder had been born, now some four years ago. Surely it was from no lack of love, this silence, but merely due to the working of what would seem to be a law of the artistic temperament: that to turn a muse into a wife, however long and faithfully loved, is to bid good-bye to the muse. But a day or two after the coming of Silencieux, Antony found himself suddenly inspired once more to sing of his wife. It was the best poem he had written for a long time, and when it was finished, he came down the wood impatient to read it to Beatrice. D THESE INDEFINITE FOREBODINGS COME OVER HIM AS HE LOOKED AT HER BUT HE WAS GROWING AS CHILDISH AS BEATRICE SURELY MIDNIGHT A DARK WOOD A LANTERN AND A DEATH MAST WITH TWO OWLS WHISTLING TO EACH OTHER ACROSS THE VALLEY WERE ENOUGH TO ACCOUNT FOR ANY NUMBER OF FOREBODINGS BUT ANTONY SHIVERED FOR ALL THAT AS HE LOCKED THE DOOR AND HASTENED BACK AGAIN DOWN THE WOOD END OF CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE THE NORTHERN SPHINX ANTONY HAD NOT WRITTEN A POEM TO HIS WIFE SINCE HER LITTLE GIRL WONDER HAD BEEN BORN NOW SOME FOUR YEARS AGO SURELY IT WAS FROM NO LACK OF LOVE THE SILENCE BUT MERELY DUE TO THE WORKING OF WHAT WOULD SEEM TO BE A LAW OF THE ARTISTIC TEMPERAMENT THAT TO TURN A MUSE INTO A WIFE HOWEVER LONG AND FAITHFULLY LOVED IS TO BID GOOD BYE TO THE MUSE BUT A DAY OR TWO AFTER THE COMING OF SELAJO ANTONY FOUND HIMSELF SUDDENLY INSPIRED ONCE MORE TO SING OF HIS WIFE IT THE BEST POEM HE HAD WRITTEN FOR A LONG TIME AND WHEN IT WAS FINISHED HE CAME DOWN THE WOOD IMPATIENT TO READ IT TO BEATRICE
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