First Constable:
It’s a nice platform. The fir-tree on it looks all right.
Second Constable:
Oleander wouldn’t have been bad, either.
First Constable:
Oleander goes better with a statue.
Second Constable:
They might have put some flowers there as well.
First Constable:
Of all flowers my favourites are snow-drops.
Second Constable:
Why snow-drops? What is there so special about snow-drops? There are other flowers better than them.
First Constable:
I don’t know. Perhaps because they are the earliest buds. The earth is still dead, and already the first snow-drops appear. When I see them, it somehow touches me to the heart; words are beyond me—why, I almost feel ready to cry, or what-not, and it makes me want to roam about on the mountains. I am from the mountains. There wasn’t many people there. When I was a small boy, I used to take snow-drops home with me. Mother was so fond of them.
Second Constable:
Now, I like jasmine best. It’s got the most smell. Hallo! it’s burst. At the thumb. My gloves always burst at the thumb.
