The dome of St. Peter's, shining
with a peculiar metallic lustre in the blue atmosphere looked gigantic
and so close that one might have thought to touch it. And the two
youthful Heroes, sons of the Swan, radiant with beauty in the vast
expanse of whiteness as in the apotheosis of their origin, seemed to be
the immortal Genii of Rome guarding the slumbers of the sacred city.
The carriage stopped in front of the palace and remained there for a
long time. The poet was once more absorbed in his impossible dream. And
Maria Ferres was quite near, was perhaps watching and dreaming also,
perhaps she too felt the grandeur of the night weighing upon her heart
and crushing it in vain.
Slowly the carriage passed her closed door, while the windows reflected
the full moon gazing at the hanging gardens of the Villa Aldobrandini
where the trees looked like aerial miracles. And as he passed, the poet
threw the bunch of roses on to the snow before Donna Maria's door in
token of homage.
CHAPTER V
'I saw--I guessed--I had been at the window for a long time, unable to
tear myself away from the fascination of all that whiteness. I saw the
carriage pass slowly in the snow. I felt that it was you, before I saw
you throw the roses. No words can describe to you the tenderness of my
tears. I wept for you from love and for the roses out of pity.
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