At last I passed some humble houses, and then through a gorgeous
gate-way into the famous city of Rome. The moon shone bright as day
among the palaces, but the streets were empty, except for some lazy
fellow lying dead asleep on a marble step in the warm night air.
The fountains plashed in the silent squares, and from the gardens
bordering the street the trees added their murmur, and filled the air
with refreshing fragrance.
As I was sauntering on, not knowing--what with delight, moonlight, and
fragrance--which way to turn, I heard a guitar touched in the depths
of a garden. "Great heavens!" I thought, "the crazy student with his
long surtout has been secretly following me all this time." But in
a moment a lady in the garden began to sing deliciously. I stood
spellbound; it was the voice of the Lady fair! and the selfsame
Italian song which she often used to sing at her open window!
Then the dear old time recurred so vividly to my mind that I could
have wept bitterly; I saw the quiet garden before the castle in the
early dawn, and thought how happy I had been among the shrubbery
before that stupid fly flew up my nose. I could restrain myself no
longer, but clambered over the gilded ornaments surmounting the grated
gate-way and leaped down into the garden whence the song proceeded. As
I did so I perceived a slender white figure standing in the distance
behind a poplar-tree, looking at me in amazement; but in an instant it
had turned and fled through the dim garden toward the house so quickly
that in the moonlight it seemed to glide.
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