XII
THE TEMPLE OF JUNO FROM BELOW, GIRGENTI
OUT of the dark river-bed and the huge boulders: some real, some blocks that have fallen from the wall above, slid down the high scarred hill and come to rest in confusion at the bottom. Above the shattered wall silently stand in the pale morning light the long line of pillars of the temple. And all the while I drew, the Sicilian glared at me from behind the great rocks, and I was glad when I had finished and could come away.
XIII
PAESTUM. MORNING MIST
WHEN, after a night of horrors at the inn of Pæstum, I rose before day, the temples were veiled in mist; the fences were lost; the factory chimney had vanished—the guardians were asleep—the place seemed far away; but soon a motor hooted and an engine whistled, the mists vanished, the guardians came out, the tourists flocked in; the sadness, the loneliness of Pæstum are gone with the malaria and the buffaloes—only the mosquitoes remain.