Below fell a precipice, overhanging steep slopes of vineyard, or orange
plantations that went sliding down toward the far-off level of the sea,
and the world of the strangers. Above, towered the ruined castle,
immensely tall, its foundation-stones bedded in dark rock and draped in
ivy. In the little garden, the hum of bees among the flowers was like an
echo of far off, fairy harps.
"I think I am dreaming this," said Vanno. And he added, to himself:
"It's part of my kingdom, that I never saw before."
The cure laughed, delighted. "Luckily for me it is real," he said. "And
now that you are in it, my Principino--my one-time pupil, my all-time
friend--it is perfect. I should like you to love it. I should like--yes,
I should like some great happiness to come into your life here. That is
an odd fancy, isn't it? for the great happiness seems likely to be mine
in having you with me. But the idea sprang into my mind."
"It is a good idea," said Vanno. "I should like it to come true. I have
a favour to ask you, and perhaps--who knows?--your granting it may
somehow bring the wish to pass."
A tiny figure of a woman--so old, so fragile as to look as if she were
made of transparent porcelain--appeared as he spoke from an arbour at
the far end of the little garden, an arbour whose grapevines hung
bannerlike over the precipice. She had a dish in her minute, wrinkled
hands, and was so surprised at sight of the tall young stranger that she
nearly dropped it.
"My little housekeeper," explained the cure.
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