“One summer day—with pensive thought—she wandered on—the sea-girt shore,” chanted Sara. “The madam-aunt had the Professor, and kept him!”
“And John Hoffman?”
“Mr. Hoffman said that we ought to be very thankful for the simple, unalloyed enjoyment of the perfect day; how much better it was than the gaudy glare of cities, and so forth.”
“I have noticed that no one ever says that who has not been well through the g. g. aforesaid, and especially the and-so-forth, Sara, my dear.”
The sunny days passed; the delicious, indolent atmosphere affected us all; we wandered to and fro without plan or purpose in a lazy enjoyment impossible with Northern climate and Northern consciences.
“I feel as though I had taken hasheesh,” said Sara.
Crowds of tourists came and went, and liked or liked not the Ancient City according to their tastes.
“You must let yourself glide into the lazy tropical life,” I explained to a discontented city friend; “it is dolce far niente here, you know.”
But the lady did not know. “Very uninteresting place,” she said; “nothing to see—no shops.”
“What! going, Mr. Brown?” I asked one morning.