The rose tree here, which clings to my balcony, delights us both; but if the gardener did not frequently prune it and tie it with palm-bast, in this soil, which forces everything to rapid growth, it would soon shoot up so high that it would cover door and window, and I should sit in darkness.

Throw this handkerchief over your shoulders, for the dew falls as it grows cooler, and listen to me a little longer!--The beautiful passion of love and fidelity has grown unchecked in your dreamy nature to such a height, that it darkens your spirit and your judgment.
Love, a true love, it seems to me, should be a noble fruit-tree, and not a rank weed.

I do not blame you, for she who should have been the gardener did not heed--and would not heed--what was happening.

Look, Nefert, so long as I wore the lock of youth, I too did what I fancied--I never found any pleasure in dreaming, but in wild games with my brothers, in horses and in falconry; they often said I had the spirit of a boy, and indeed I would willingly have been a boy." "Not I--never!" said Nefert.
"You are just a rose--my dearest," said Bent-Anat.

"Well! when I was fifteen I was so discontented, so insubordinate and full of all sorts of wild behavior, so dissatisfied in spite of all the kindness and love that surrounded me--but I will tell you what happened.