But I was seized with a horror of him and of his wild talk, and when
he turned and addressed the sleeping painter I took advantage of the
opportunity and slipped round the table, without being perceived
by him, and out of the garden. Thence, alone and glad at heart, I
descended through the vine-trellises into the wide moonlit valley.
The clocks in the city were striking ten. Behind me, in the quiet
night, I still heard an occasional note of the guitar, and at times
the voices of the two painters, going home at last, were audible. I
ran on as quickly as possible, that they might not overtake me.
At the city-gate I turned into the street on the right hand, and
hurried on with a throbbing heart among the silent houses and gardens.
To my amazement, I suddenly found myself in the very Square with the
fountain, for which, by daylight, I had vainly searched. There stood
the solitary summer-house again in the glorious moonlight, and again
the Lady fair was singing the same Italian song as on the evening
before. In an ecstasy I tried first the low door, then the house door,
and at last the big garden gate, but all were locked. Then first it
occurred to me that eleven had not yet struck. I was irritated by the
slow flight of time, but good manners forbade my climbing over the
garden gate as I had done yesterday. Therefore I paced the lonely
Square to and fro for a while, and at last again seated myself upon
the basin of the fountain and resigned myself to meditation and calm
expectancy.
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