The good Romans therefore turned away from this garden, which threatened
them with a tax, and sought other places of recreation; while old Count
Appiani sold his garden and the ruins of his villa to the rich stranger
who had offered him so considerable a sum for them. From that day
forward every thing in the garden had assumed a different appearance.
Masons, carpenters, and upholsterers had come and so improved the villa,
within and without, that it now made a stately and beautiful appearance
amid the dense foliage of the trees. It had been expensively and
splendidly furnished with every thing desirable for a rich man's
dwelling, and the upholsterers had enough to relate to the listening
Romans of the elegant magnificence now displayed in this formerly
pitiable villa. How gladly would the former promenaders now have
returned to this garden; how gladly would they now have revisited this
villa, which, with its deserted halls and its ragged and dirty tapestry,
had formerly seemed to them not worth looking at! But their return to it
was now rendered impossible; for on the same day in which the new owner
took possession of the garden, he had brought with him more than fifty
workmen, who had immediately commenced surrounding it with a high wall.
Higher and higher rose the wall; nobody could see over it, as no
giant was sufficiently tall; no one could climb over it, as the
smoothly-hammered stones of which it was built offered not the least
supporting point. The garden with its villa had become a secret mystery
to the Romans! They yet heard the rustling of the trees, they saw the
green branches waving in the wind; but of what occurred under those
branches and in those shaded walks they could know nothing. At first,
some curious individuals had ventured to knock at the low, narrow door
that formed the only entrance into this walled garden. They had knocked
at that door and demanded entrance. Then would a small sliding window
be opened, and a gruff, bearded man with angry voice would ask what was
wanted, and at the same time inform the knocker that no one could be
admitted; that he and his two bulldogs would be able to keep the garden
clear of all intruders. And the two great hounds, as if they understood
the threats of their master, would show their teeth, and their
threatening growl would rise to a loud and angry bark.
They soon ceased to knock at that door, and, as they could not gain
admission, they took the next best course, of assuming the appearance of
not wishing it.
Four years had since passed; they had overcome the desire to enter the
premises or to look over the wall, but they told wondrous tales of
the garden and of a beautiful fairy who dwelt in it, and whose soft,
melodious voice was sometimes heard in the stillness of the night
singing sweet, transporting songs. No one had seen her, this fairy, but
she was certainly beautiful, and of course young; there were also some
bold individuals who asserted that when the moon shone brightly and
goldenly, the young fairy was then to be seen in the tops of the
trees or upon the edge of the wall. Light as an elf, transparent as a
moonbeam, she there swung to and fro, executing the singular dances
and singing songs that brought tears to the eyes and compassion to the
hearts of those who heard them. On hearing these tales, the Romans would
make the sign of the cross, and pass more quickly by the walls of this
garden, which thenceforth they called "The Charmed Garden." It was
indeed a charmed garden! It was an island of happiness, behind these
walls, concealed from the knavery of the world. Like an eternal smile of
the Divinity rested the heavens over this ever-blooming, ever-fragrant
garden, in whose myrtle-bushes the nightingales sang, and in whose
silver-clear basins the goldfishes splashed.