Picturesque,
abundantly; but these beautiful tree-names, which waft a perfume of
romance, are like to convey a false impression to readers who have
never seen the far south; it is natural to think of lovely nooks,
where one might lie down to rest and dream; there comes a vision of
soft turf under the golden-fruited boughs--"places of nestling
green for poets made." Alas! the soil is bare and lumpy as a
ploughed field, and all the leafage that hangs low is thick with a
clayey dust. One cannot rest or loiter or drowse; no spot in all the
groves where by any possibility one could sit down. After rambling
as long as I chose, I found that a view of the orchard from outside
was more striking than the picture amid the trees themselves. _Senza
nulla toccare_, I went my way.
CHAPTER VIII
FACES BY THE WAY
The wind could not roar itself out. Through the night it kept
awaking me, and on the morrow I found a sea foamier than ever;
impossible to reach the Colonna by boat, and almost so, I was
assured, to make the journey by land in such weather as this.
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