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It was originally laid out, Keith explained, by one of the old
rulers of Nepenthe who, to tease his faithful subjects, simulated a
frenzied devotion for the poetry and architecture of the Saracens,
their bitterest enemies.
Something Oriental still hung about these chambers, though the modern
furniture was not at all in keeping with the style. Mr. Keith did not
profess to be a man of taste. "I try to be comfortable," he used to
say. He succeeded in being luxurious.
They glanced into the garden--a spacious park-like enclosure terminating
in a declivity, so as to afford a view over the sea far below. It was a
mock wilderness of trees and bright blossoms, flooded in meridian
sunlight. Some gardeners moved about, binding up the riotous vegetation
that had sprouted overnight under the moist breath of the sirocco.
"It's too hot to think of lunching out here," said Keith. "You should
come and see this place in the evening."
"It must be wonderful at that hour."
"Still more wonderful in the early morning, or by moonlight.


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