Volume I Part 15 (1/2)
She threw a mantle over her shoulders and hurried softly out of the still silent palace, down the marble steps, and into the garden; across which the fresh morning wind from the neighbouring sea blew towards her.
She hastened towards the sun and the sea, for, to the east, the high walls of the palace gardens rose directly out of the blue waves of the Adriatic.
A gilded lattice-gate, and, beyond it, ten broad steps of white Hymettus marble, led to the little garden-harbour, in which rocked the light-oared gondolas with their lateen sails of purple linen-cloth, fastened with silver chains to the ornamental rams'-heads fixed right and left upon the marble quay.
At the side of the lattice-gate towards the garden, the grounds ended in a s.p.a.cious rotunda, which was surrounded with broad and shady pines.
The ground was laid out with carefully-tended gra.s.splots, intersected by neat paths, and diversified by gay beds of sweet-scented flowers. A spring, ornamentally enclosed, ran down the declivity into the sea. In the centre of this place was a small and antique Temple of Venus, overtopped by a single palm-tree, while burning-red saxifrage grew in the now empty niches of its outer walls. At the right of its long-closed door stood a bronze statue of aeneas. The Julius Caesar to the left had fallen centuries ago. Theodoric had placed upon its pedestal a bronze statue of Amala, the mythic forefather of his house.
Between these statues, from the steps of the little fane, was a splendid view through the lattice-gate over the sea, with its woody lagoon-islands, and a group of jagged rocks, called ”the Needles of the Amphitrites.”
This had been a favourite resort of Camilla's childhood. And it was. .h.i.ther that she now bent her steps, lightly brus.h.i.+ng the plentiful dew from the high gra.s.s as, with slightly-lifted garments, she hastened along the narrow pathway. She wished to behold the sun rise glowing from the sea.
She advanced from behind the temple, pa.s.sed to the estrade on the left, and had just set her foot upon the first step which led from the front of the temple to the lattice-gate, when she caught sight of a white figure reclining on the second step, with the head leaning against the bal.u.s.trade and the face turned towards the sea.
She recognised the black and silky hair; it was the young King.
The meeting was so unexpected that there was no possibility of avoiding it. As if rooted to the ground, she stood still upon the first step.
Athalaric sprang up and quickly turned. His pallid face was illumined by a vivid flush. But he was the first to recover himself, and said:
”Forgive, Camilla. I could not expect you to come here at this hour. I will go; and leave you alone with the rising sun.”
And he flung his white mantle over his shoulder.
”Remain, King of the Goths. I have no right to scare you away--and no intention,” she added.
Athalaric came a step nearer.
”I thank you. And I beg one favour,” he added, smiling. ”Do not betray me to my physicians nor to my mother. All day long they shut me up so carefully, that I am obliged to escape before sunrise. For the fresh air, the sea-breeze, does me good; I feel that it cools me. You will not betray me?”
He spoke so quietly. He looked so unembarra.s.sed. This freedom from embarra.s.sment confused Camilla. She would have felt more courageous if he had been more moved. She observed his coolness with pain, but not because she really cared for the Prefect's plans. So, in answer, she only shook her head in silence, and cast down her eyes.
At that moment the rays of the sun reached the spot on which the pair were standing.
The old temple and the bronze of the statues shone in the rosy light; and from the east a broad path of trembling gold was laid upon the smooth flood.
”See, how beautiful!” cried Athalaric, carried away by his admiration.
”Look at that bridge of light and glory!”
She joined in his admiration, and looked out over the sea.
”Do you remember, Camilla,” he continued slowly, as if lost in recollection, and not looking at her, ”do you remember how we played here when we were children? How we dreamed? We said that the golden path painted on the waters by the sun, led to the Islands of the Blessed.”
”To the Islands of the Blessed!” repeated Camilla. In secret she was wondering at the delicacy and ease with which, avoiding every allusion to their last meeting, he conversed with her in a manner, which completely disarmed her.
”And look, how the statues glitter, that wonderful pair, aeneas and--Amala! Listen, Camilla, I have something to beg pardon for.”
Her heart beat rapidly. He was going to speak of the rebuilding of the Villa and the fountain. The blood rose to her cheeks. She remained silent in painful expectation.
But the youth continued quietly: