Sources: ebooks Adelaide, Project Gutenberg Australia
'Let us now crawl,' said Bernard, 'under the canopy of the currant
leaves, and tell stories. Let us inhabit the underworld. Let us
take possession of our secret territory, which is lit by pendant
currants like candelabra, shining red on one side, black on the
other. Here, Jinny, if we curl up close, we can sit under the
canopy of the currant leaves and watch the censers swing. This is
our universe. The others pass down the carriage-drive. The skirts
of Miss Hudson and Miss Curry sweep by like candle extinguishers.
Those are Susan's white socks. Those are Louis' neat sand-shoes
firmly printing the gravel. Here come warm gusts of decomposing
leaves, of rotting vegetation. We are in a swamp now; in a
malarial jungle. There is an elephant white with maggots, killed
by an arrow shot dead in its eye. The bright eyes of hopping
birds--eagles, vultures--are apparent. They take us for fallen
trees. They pick at a worm--that is a hooded cobra--and leave it
with a festering brown scar to be mauled by lions. This is our
world, lit with crescents and stars of light; and great petals half
transparent block the openings like purple windows. Everything is
strange. Things are huge and very small. The stalks of flowers
are thick as oak trees. Leaves are high as the domes of vast
cathedrals. We are giants, lying here, who can make forests
quiver.'
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