With obscure emotion she arose, approached the shore, and listened.
"The madwomen of San Clemente!"
From the isle of La Follia, from the barred windows of the light, lonely hospital, came the lively yet melancholy chorus. It trembled, hesitated in the immensity of space, grew fainter and almost died away, then rose again and swelled to a piercing shriek, diminished once more, and finally sank to silence.
CHAPTER VIII
ILLUSIONS
Yes, heart-rending was the sweetness of that November, smiling like a sick person who has become free from suffering, knowing it is the last, and tasting again the sweetness of life, which reveals to him new charms when just about to leave him.
"Look at the Euganean hills below us, Foscarina; if the wind should come they will rise and float in the air like gauzy veils, and pass over our heads. I never have seen them so transparent. Some day I should like to go with you to Arquà; the villages there are as pink as the shells we find in myriads in the earth. When we arrive there, the first drops of a sudden shower will be robbing the peach-blossoms of their petals. We will wait under one of the arches of the Palladio to avoid getting wet. Then, without inquiring the way of anyone, we will look for the fountain of Petrarch. We will carry with us his poems in the small edition of Misserini's, that little book you keep beside your bed and cannot close any more because it is so full of pressed leaves and grasses. Would you like to go to Arquà some spring day?"
She did not reply, but gazed silently at the lips that said these graceful things; and, without hope, she simply took a fugitive pleasure in their movement and accent. For her there was in his image of the Spring the same enchantment as in a stanza of Petrarch's; but she could lay a bookmark in the one and find it again, while the poetic fancies must be lost with the passing hour.
She wished to say: "I will not drink at that fountain," but kept silence, that she might still enjoy the caress.—Oh, yes, intoxicate me with illusions! Play your own game; do with me as you will.—
"Here we are at San Giorgio in Alga. We shall reach Fusina in a few minutes."