Bernard Capes, The pot of basil (1913)
“ How the sun and shade fought for her face, her bosom! Tiretta.” “Sir.” “I would not willingly forget that vision. See, take this ring” (he pulled a green intaglio from his finger) —“carry it to her; say that the Count of Falckenstein presents his duty to the nixie of the pool, and begs her to accept of this gage in token of his thraldom. No delay—not a moment—or you will be too late.” Tiretta, in his jack-boots, splashed back across the ford. He found the wicket unfastened, and entered; a short hedgy lane carried him to the chestnut trees and the patch of sward over against the islet. ”
