Because he never tired of these things the two
months at Stellamare, often spent alone except for servants, were the
best months of his year. Through stress and strain he thought of them,
as a thirsty man thinks of a long draught of cool water; and he spent
them quietly, living in each moment: not complicating his leisure with
many acquaintances or amusements, and neither vexed nor pleased because
people called him selfish, and gossipped about his palace in a garden as
a place mysterious and secret. He was not quite in Paradise in his
retreat there, because he was not a perfectly happy man; but he did not
expect perfect happiness, and hoped for nothing better on earth than his
lonely holidays at Stellamare.
Descending a steep hill toward the sea as the big car slipped between
tall marble gate-posts, a perfume as of all the sweetest flowers of the
world, gathered in a bouquet, was flung into the two men's faces. In the
distance, beyond the house whose windows suddenly lit up as if by magic,
a wide semi-circle of marble columns glimmered pale against the sea's
deep indigo. And away across the stretch of quiet water glittered the
amazing jewels of Monte Carlo.
"By Jove! no Roman emperor could have had a lovelier garden, or a more
splendid palace on this coast," said Carleton, as he stood on the steps
of the house modelled after the description of Pliny's villa at
Laurentum. "Your greatest wish must be fulfilled."
"My greatest wish," Schuyler echoed, with a faint sigh.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154