"Shall we ever get there?" she asked, pointing ahead with the
hand that held the reins.
"To Mogador? Yes, I hope so," I answered with a laugh. I
thought she was tired.
"No, not Mogador. The dream-city--where every one wants to get."
"You have travelled far, my dear," said I, "to hanker now after
dream-cities and the unattainable. I knew a little girl once who
would have asked: 'What is a dream-city?"
"She doesn't ask now because she knows," replied Carlotta. "No.
We shall never get there. It looks as if we were riding straight
into it--but when we get close, it will just be Mogador."
"Aren't you happy, Carlotta?" I asked.
"Are you, Seer Marcous?"
"I? I am a philosopher, my child, and a happy philosopher would
be a _lusus naturae_, a freak, a subject for a Barnum & Bailey
Show. If they caught him they would put him between the hairy
man and the living skeleton."
"I suppose I'm getting to be a philosopher, too," said Carlotta,
"and I hate it! Sometimes I think I hate everything and
everybody
--save you, Seer Marcous, darling.
Pages:
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440