"'Where are all the dear, dead women?'" asked the Boy. "'What's become of all the gold that used to hang, and brush their shoulders?' Maybe part of the answer to Browning's question lies in those tombs."
"They were Princesses, like your sister," said I. "I've been fancying them with her eyes."
"What do you know about her eyes?" he asked quickly.
"I imagine them like yours."
"Let's get out into the sunshine again," said the Boy. "I'm afraid it's time to leave the Princesses, and go back to the Contessa."
The Revenge of the Mountain
"Contending with the fretful elements."
—Shakespeare.
It is the early bird which gathers the worm, if the worm has thoughtlessly got up early too; but it is also the bird which comes flying from afar off, whatever his engagements elsewhere may be; the bird which, having come, remains on the spot favoured by the worm, singing sweet songs to charm it into a mood ripe for the gathering.