In the
corners nettles and various rank weeds were growing riotously amid the
great heaps of rubbish fallen from the crumbling cornice high above, and
grass had sprung up everywhere in the crevices of the stone pavement.
Opposite the entrance a flight of dilapidated, shaky steps, with a heavy
stone balustrade, led down into a neglected garden, which was gradually
becoming a perfect thicket. Excepting in one small bed, where a few
cabbages were growing, there was no attempt at cultivation, and nature
had reasserted her rights everywhere else in this abandoned spot,
taking, apparently, a fierce delight in effacing all traces of man's
labour. The fruit trees threw out irregular branches without fear of
the pruning knife; the box, intended to form a narrow border to the
curiously shaped flower-beds and grass-plots, had grown up unchecked
into huge, bushy shrubs, while a great variety of sturdy weeds had
usurped the places formerly devoted to choice plants and beautiful,
fragrant flowers. Brambles, bristling with sharp thorns, which had
thrown their long, straggling arms across the paths, caught and tried
to hold back any bold adventurer who attempted to penetrate into the
mysterious depths of this desolate wilderness. Solitude is averse to
being surprised in dishabille, and surrounds herself with all sorts of
defensive obstacles.
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