'Open the window,' he said to the servant.
The noise of the carriage wheels was louder now, a soft damp breeze
stirred the curtains lightly.
'Divine Rome!' he thought as he looked at the sky between the wide
curtains.
An irresistible curiosity drew him to the open window.
Rome appeared, all pearly gray, spread out before him, its lines a
little blurred like a faded picture, under a Claude Lorrain sky,
sprinkled with ethereal clouds, their noble grouping lending to the
clear spaces between an indescribable delicacy, as flowers lend a new
grace to the verdure which surrounds them. On the distant heights the
gray deepened gradually to amethyst. Long trailing vapours slid through
the cypresses of the Monte Mario like waving locks through a comb of
bronze. Close by, the pines of the Monte Pincio spread their sun-gilded
canopies. Below, on the piazza, the obelisk of Pius VI. looked like a
pillar of agate. Under this rich autumnal light everything took on a
sumptuous air.
Divine Rome!
He feasted his eyes on the prospect before him. Looking down, he saw a
group of red-robed clerics pass along by the church; then the black
coach of a prelate with its two black, long-tailed horses; then other
open carriages containing ladies and children. He recognised the
Princess of Ferentino with Barbarella Viti, followed by the Countess of
Lucoli driving a pair of ponies and accompanied by her great Danish
hound.
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