But whose foot was he thinking of, and in whatgarden did all this happen? For one had settings tothese scenes; trees that grew there; flowers; a certainlight; a few figures. Everything tended to set itselfin a garden where there was none of this gloom andnone of this throwing of hands about; people spokein an ordinary tone of voice. They went in and outall day long. There was an old woman gossiping inthe kitchen; and the blinds were sucked in and outby the breeze; all was blowing, all was growing; andover all those plates and bowls and tall brandishingred and yellow flowers a very thin yellow veil wouldbe drawn, like a vine leaf, at night. Things becamestiller and darker at night. But the leaf-like veil wasso fine that lights lifted it, voices crinkled it; he couldsee through it a figure stooping, hear, coming close,going away, some dress rustling, some chain tinkling.