Читать книгу The Perfect World. A romance of strange people and strange places онлайн

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His faintness grew still more unbearable and he came out of his hiding place, caring for nothing but to get food; but his limbs were weak, and he fell, and found that he could hardly drag himself along. As he lay on the ground, a sweet smell assailed his nostrils, and looking round he realized that on little low bushes all about him, hung a luscious-looking, purple fruit.

He picked one and examined it. It was like a grape in size and appearance, but was velvet to the touch, like a peach. He tasted it—it was sweet and wonderfully refreshing, so he ate his fill, with his last ounce of strength pulled himself once more into the friendly arms of the overhanging rocks, and fell asleep. When he awoke he made another meal off the fruit that grew everywhere in such abundance—it was filling and seemed nutritious, and the juice appeased his thirst. He looked carefully around him. There was no one about, and keeping within the shadow of the walls, he made his way down the path. It was not an easy road, for the stones were sharp and the way rough, and the constant effort to keep himself hidden tired him. At last he came to the end of the passage, and saw that the river widened out into a large lake, about two hundred yards across. Peculiar craft lay moored at either side, and in the centre was an island on which grew purple vegetation—short, stunted, purple trees, and a peculiar, purple moss, that covered the ground like grass.