The Ethics of the Dust | Page 4

You should not have minded the serpents.
ISABEL. Oh, but suppose that they had minded me?
L. We all of us mind you a little too much, Isabel, I'm afraid.
ISABEL. No--no--no, indeed.
L. I tell you what, Isabel--I don't believe either Sindbad, or Florrie, or
you, ever were in the Valley of Diamonds.
ISABEL. You naughty! when I tell you we were!
L. Because you say you were frightened at the serpents.
ISABEL. And wouldn't you have been?
L. Not at those serpents. Nobody who really goes into the valley is ever
frightened at them--they are so beautiful.
ISABEL (suddenly serious). But there's no real Valley of Diamonds, is
there?
L. Yes, Isabel; very real indeed.
FLORRIE (reappearing). Oh, where? Tell me about it.
L. I cannot tell you a great deal about it; only I know it is very different
from Sindbad's. In his valley, there was only a diamond lying here and
there; but, in the real valley, there are diamonds covering the grass in
showers every morning, instead of dew: and there are clusters of trees,
which look like lilac trees; but, in spring, all their blossoms are of
amethyst.
FLORRIE. But there can't be any serpents there, then?
L. Why not?
FLORRIE. Because they don't come into such beautiful places.
L. I never said it was a beautiful place.
FLORRIE. What! not with diamonds strewed about it like dew?
L. That's according to your fancy, Florrie. For myself, I like dew better.

ISABEL. Oh, but the dew won't stay; it all dries!
L. Yes; and it would be much nicer if the diamonds dried too, for the
people in the valley have to sweep them off the grass, in heaps,
whenever they want to walk on it; and then the heaps glitter so, they
hurt one's eyes.
FLORRIE. Now you're just playing, you know.
L. So are you, you know.
FLORRIE. Yes, but you mustn't play.
L. That's very hard, Florrie; why mustn't I, if you may?
FLORRIE. Oh, I may, because I'm little, but you mustn't, because
you're--(hesitates for a delicate expression of magnitude).
L. (rudely taking the first that comes). Because I'm big? No; that's not
the way of it at all, Florrie. Because you're little, you should have very
little play; and because I'm big I should have a great deal.
ISABEL and FLORRIE (both). No--no--no--no. That isn't it at all.
(ISABEL sola, quoting Miss Ingelow.) "The lambs play always--they
know no better." (Putting her head very much on one side.) Ah, now
--please--please--tell us true; we want to know.
L. But why do you want me to tell you true, any more than the man
who wrote the "Arabian Nights"?
ISABEL. Because--because we like to know about real things; and you
can tell us, and we can't ask the man who wrote the stories.
L. What do you call real things?
ISABEL. Now, you know! Things that really are.
L. Whether you can see them or not?
ISABEL. Yes, if somebody else saw them.
L. But if nobody has ever seen them?
ISABEL. (evading the point). Well, but, you know, if there were a real
Valley of Diamonds, somebody MUST have seen it.
L. You cannot be so sure of that, Isabel. Many people go to real places,
and never see them; and many people pass through this valley, and
never see it.
FLORRIE. What stupid people they must be!
L. No, Florrie. They are much wiser than the people who do see it.
MAY. I think I know where it is.
ISABEL. Tell us more about it, and then we'll guess.
L. Well. There's a great broad road, by a river-side, leading up into it.

MAY (gravely cunning, with emphasis on the last word). Does the road
really go UP?
L. You think it should go down into a valley? No, it goes up; this is a
valley among the hills, and it is as high as the clouds, and is often full
of them; so that even the people who most want to see it, cannot,
always.
ISABEL. And what is the river beside the road like?
L. It ought to be very beautiful, because it flows over diamond
sand--only the water is thick and red.
ISABEL. Red water?
L. It isn't all water.
MAY. Oh, please never mind that, Isabel, just now; I want to hear
about the valley.
L. So the entrance to it is very wide, under a steep rock; only such
numbers of people are always trying to get in, that they keep jostling
each other, and manage it but slowly. Some weak ones are pushed back,
and never get in at all; and make great moaning as they go away: but
perhaps they are none the worse in the end.
MAY. And when one gets in,