Ronder

“ But you seem to me much older than I am. Do you know what I mean? Father's as young or younger and so are so many of the others. But you must have made your mind up about life. I want to know what you think of it."
"That's a tall order," said Ronder, smiling. "What one thinks of life! Well, one can't say all in a moment, you know."
And then, as though he had suddenly decided to take his companion seriously, his face was grave and his round shining eyes wide open.
Falk coloured. ”

“ Ryle was not a good conversationalist, because he had always before him the fear that some one might twist what he said into something really unpleasant, but, indeed, he found Ronder so agreeable that, as he told Mrs. Ryle when he got home, he "never noticed the hill at all."
"I hope you won't think me impertinent," said Ronder, "but I must tell you how charmed I was with the way that you sang the service on Sunday. You must have been complimented often enough before, but a stranger always has the right, I think, to say something. ”

“ Men of Brandon's type were anachronistic; the town had been under Brandon's domination too long. New life was coming--a new world--a new civilisation.
Ronder, although no one believed less in Utopias than he, did believe in the Zeitgeist--simply for comfort's sake if for no stronger reason. Well, the Zeitgeist was descending upon Polchester, and Ronder was its agent. Progress? No, Ronder did not believe in Progress. But in the House of Life there are many rooms; once and again the furniture is changed. ”

“ I am delighted to have your opinion given so frankly."
("What an ass the man is!" thought Ronder. "He's going to lose his temper here in the middle of the road with that coachman listening to every word.")
"You must not take me too literally, Archdeacon," said Ronder. "What I meant was that the question whether Wistons is an atheist can be argued from many points of view."
"It can not! It can not!" cried Brandon, now shaking with anger. "There can be no two points of view. 'He that is not with me is against me'----"
"Very well, then," said Ronder. "It can not. There is no more to be said." ”

“ Ryle flushed with pleasure to the very tips of his over-large ears.
"Oh, really, Canon...But indeed I hardly know what to say. You're too good. I do my poor best, but I can't help feeling that there is danger of one's becoming stale. I've been here a great many years now and I think some one fresh...."
"Well, often," said Ronder, "that is a danger. I know several cases where a change would be all for the better, but in your case there wasn't a trace of staleness. ”

“ No, of course you don't know, because you've taken no interest in the Cathedral nor in anything to do with it. All the same, I should have thought it impossible for any one to be in this town half an hour and not know who's responsible. There's only one man, and that man is Ronder."
Unfortunately Falk liked Ronder. "I think Ronder's rather a good sort," he said. "A clever fellow, too."
The Archdeacon stared at him. ”

“ That's something in your favour."
"Why should one go Brandon's way?" Ronder asked.
"Why? Why? Why? Why do sheep huddle together when the dog barks at their heels?...But I respect him. Don't you mistake me. He's a man to be respected. He's got courage. He cares for the Cathedral. He's a hundred years behind, that's all. He's read nothing, he knows nothing, he's a child--and does infinite harm...." He looked up at Ronder and said quite mildly, "Is there anything more you want to know?"
"There's talk," said Ronder, "about the living at Pybus St. ”

“ Wisdom of deathless years was in their eyes.
“From what a race are we degenerate!” said Father Renaudin.
“To what a height may we not rise!” answered Regan.
Rondah had not been so long from Earth as to feel so keenly the wonder as she mingled with a crowd of mankind.
Before them rose a white-walled city; into its streets they walked. The old song was in the air, the song of the Sun Island.
Beyond were fields of sapphire blue, each leaf with the slightest touch of gold upon it.
221“These are our fields; these are our seas; here is our city; humanity is our people,” said their guide. “See here!” ”

“ Swift, very swift, the car sank.
“There is the house Regan built. There is a flying bird man. They are not asleep. You have told me falsely! Regan is not here!” cried Rondah.
But it was too late. The car sank into the white brilliance. The dark surface of the star was lost to view. Rondah was upon the Sun Island, even in her suspense and apprehension to be astounded at its glory! ”

“ A. B.—a. b. a. b. A. B.; the rondel of Charles d'Orléans having A. B. b. a. a. b. A. B.—a. b. b. a. A. B. The length of the lines is not confined to any particular number of syllables in modern examples.
By the time of Octavien de Saint Gelais (1466-1502) the rondel has nearly become the rondeau as we know it. Still rhymed on but two sounds, it repeats the first line only, nor always the whole of that, as the quoted examples show:—
De ce qui est au pouvoir de Fortune
Nul ne se doit vanter ny tenir fort:
Car ung jour sert de plaisir et confort,
Et l'autre après, de courroux et rancune. ”

“ Within these lovely vales once more with Rondah beside him, he cared little for the man of Earth, asleep in the snow outside the wall.
“We shall both be glad when spring is come, Rondah! I shall return to my own dear world. Will you remain forever in the Sun Island or go out into your little lava land again?” ”

“ To walk the Ronda road in spring.
There grows a gallant army
Of blossoms great and small
Along the road to Ronda—
The broom is lord of all.
O fair and fair and wonder-fair,
Spilt like the sunshine everywhere!
Ronda, Spain.
{54} THE MOON AND THE MORNING
The moon is riding high, the stars are shining
But very palely, through the clear blue light;
The plain is empty, and the circling mountains
Rise cold and far through swathes of mist to-night.
There is no wind astir, the serried rushes
Stand straight as lances round the glassed lagoon ”

“ Souls perish while you wait!” said Rondah.
“I have found her!”
“Where is she?” again questioned Rondah.
“People do not know their brightest destinies. Is not this a bewildering opportunity for one to offer to man’s ambition—a constellation, its ruling, its splendor and its salvation? Is not the bait tempting—the bait of worlds and souls?”
“I suppose so—to some,” answered Rondah. “I presume that to Regan such an opportunity would be impossible of rejection. If only Regan had such a sun as that!” ”

“ In its origin, the rondel was a lyric of two verses, each having four or five lines, rhyming on two rhymes only. In its eight (or ten) lines, but five (or six) were distinct, the others being made by repeating the first couplet at the end of the second stanza, sometimes in an inverse order, and the first line at the end of its first stanza. The eight-lined rondel is thus, to all intents and purposes, a triolet, although labelled a rondel. Here is a fourteenth century one by Eustache Deschamps:—
Est ce donc vostre intencion
De voloir retrancher mes gaiges
Vingt livres de ma pension? ”

“ As it happened, the casts of the Iron Age and of Saint John the Baptist stood in the great hall where we were. Rodin asked me to look at them. And I at once recognized the truth of his words.
I noticed that in the first of these works the movement appears to mount, as in the statue of Ney. The legs of the youth, who is not yet fully awake, are still lax and almost vacillating, but as your eye mounts you see the pose become firmer—the ribs rise beneath the skin, the chest expands, the face is lifted towards the sky, and the two arms stretch in an endeavor to throw off their torpor. ”

“ A roundel is wrought as a ring or a starbright sphere,
With craft of delight and with cunning of sound unsought,
That the heart of the hearer may smile if to pleasure his ear
⁠A roundel is wrought. ”

“ Such a sight, under a splendid sunshine, when the summer sea was only rippled by a gentle breeze, to catch which every inch of canvas was spread to the yard-heads, might make the coldest heart quicken; and it certainly made me think of my mother's wishes, and of old Rodney in his bob-wig and ruffles, scrambling at the head of his boarders, sword in hand, up the carved and gilded side of the Spanish galleon—of Boscawen and Benbow, Captain Cook, and Robinson Crusoe ”

“ The race of men has now possession of the star,” said Regan. “I never liked 207those wings, those black and breathful sheets of power. The elf men will improve into a humanity. The wingless race is almost, if not entirely, human. To us and to our children is the star, Rondah!” ”

“ Regan cast himself beside the molten flood, waiting his doom.
“Rondah! Rondah! I shall never see you!” he moaned. “Did you die in the snow? Where are you? From what place do you see me? Oh! my love, my love!”
The air grew sulphurous with smoke. The rocks fell between him and the sea, and others fell between him and the lava.
He was too lethargic to look. The habit of the globe had seized upon him! He fell asleep for 103years! For people are a part of that globe which they inhabit. They do not realize it, but they breathe, move, think, exist, according to its spirit, as a portion of it! ”

“ The little, smooth, green moon near the 194star is one of the satellites which you can save. It is small, but three times the size of this star.”
Rondah answered nothing.
“That beautiful world has perishing multitudes. They wait for you, Rondah! Will you lose them their salvation for one man of Earth? You are waiting for one merely human. I am of a race more powerful, as my world is greater. You alone can reveal the truths to these worlds. You must teach them, save them. Rondah, Rondah, why do you not look at me?” ”

“ There’s a familiar figure sitting on a fallen log and waiting for us when we climb over the fence and sneak up the hill behind the Turner house. Ronnie jumps up when he spies us, as tickled as a kid, who’s about to try something he’s never done before. ”

“ Regan had made himself believe that he should find something so different! What could explain 141matters to him? He knew that it was Rondah, young, splendidly appareled, bewilderingly beautiful, but the same Rondah, the same Rondah! To mysteries he was accustomed.
“Rondah! My own Rondah!” he cried and clasped her in his arms once more. “There is a God, such a thinking, loving world-mover as Father Renaudin preaches! Nothing that blunders could bring such joy as this to the heart of man! There is a God who rules over all! Rondah, we are again united! He has done this!” ”

“ If it had not been for that first glimpse, and if we had not read “Miranda of the Balcony” we should not have guessed, in walking from the station to the Alameda, that Ronda differed from other Moorish towns. But far away was a barrier of iron railing, and a curious effect as if beyond it everything ended except the sky. We walked on, reached that railing, and leaned over.
No picture, no book had been able to give us a real idea of Ronda. It was stupendous—wonderful. We stared down at the world beneath as if we hung in a balloon, for the rock fell away from our feet, a sheer precipice ”

“ His hands send momentary messages to the brain, warning it that endurance is almost exhausted. Below he sees the sharp formidable spires of Saint-Jean-de-Ronde, and immediately under him, two hundred feet from where he hangs, are the hard pavement, where men appear like pigmies. ”

“ Love and jealousy are mingled with mystery, forming a romance of decided interest and much power. The heroine is afterwards brought to the star and takes part in a number of startling episodes, notably the exploration of the wonderful Sun Island. “Rondah” is one of the best of the fanciful novels now so popular. ”

“ It is not the sun which lightens human hearts!” answered Rondah.
157 CHAPTER XVII.
“NOT RONDAH, WHO HAS NO STRENGTH!” The great storm when the star turned, the accompanying disaster, the horror of convulsion, the sunless years—these were troubles which Regan wished he could avert. With Rondah he often wondered whether they might not spend the winter in the Sun Island.
In dreamy luxury the months and years passed on. Rondah was happy and took no note of time; it was for cycles, no need to measure it by hours, no death ahead. Regan was busy with great schemes. ”

“ Austin Dobson.
[Pg 294]
MALAPROPOS. (Rondeau.)
Imitated from the French of Count Anthony Hamilton.
Malàpropos do English wits revive
The Rondeau, which our beauties hear with scorn;
Hide in an extinct form a heart alive,
And woo bright lasses, whom they wish to wive,
Malàpropos, with Gaulish verse outworn. ”

“ When he made an end, and had ridden off, Ronald marched his picquet in the direction pointed out, keeping as a guide the star already mentioned. He soon found the halting-place, and there, sure enough, was a human head placed upon a pole about ten feet high; and a more grisly, hairy, ferocious, and terrible face than it presented, human eyes never beheld. ”

“ Nor are these rondel-triolets exceptions; they are quite common till the beginning of the fifteenth century. With Charles d'Orléans the rondel took the distinct shape we now assign to it, namely, of fourteen lines on two rhymes, the first two lines repeating for the seventh and eighth, and the final couplet (see page 135) . In this, the true type of the rondel, the two-lined refrain occurring three times in its fourteen makes it an unwieldy form to handle. In later French ones the last refrain uses but one of its lines. ”