As one leaves the station below Cortona, and mounts the hill to the grandly placed town, Thrasymene comes in sight again, and adds much to the beauty of the landscape. It is almost worth while to go to Cortona for the sake of the drive up from the station, and the exquisite view from the city walls, ponderous marvels of stone-work. But Cortona is not a desirable place to sleep in. The inn, when we stayed there, was not at all comfortable, and although the town is placed at such a height, the moss growing outside the houses tells how damp is the atmosphere.
If Perugia had seemed ancient, Cortona appeared antediluvian. According to the old historians, Perugia sent soldiers to fight against Troy, but Cortona boasts of having given birth to Dardanus, the founder of Assisi.
It was late afternoon when we reached the top of the hill, and when we took our way from the inn through the hilly, twisting streets to the Porta Colonia, the sun had already set, although the sky still glowed.
Lake Thrasymene looked pale and weird against the olive landscape. Before us was a deep valley backed by a warm, purple mountain ridge; behind us was the stupendous Etruscan wall. We followed the course of this down the steep descent, for Cortona is built on the side of a rocky hill which yet towers above it. The blocks of travertine in the wall are even larger than those at Perugia. Nestling between them, we found a wealth of ferns; ceterach and several delicate aspleniums growing freely among these grim records of past ages.
OLIVE-TREES, LAKE THRASYMENE.
Suddenly, while we were stooping to look closely at the ferns in the fading light, there came to us, as if from the clouds, a full-voiced chant; deep organ notes swelled above the sweet tones of treble voices.
We looked up and saw that a convent is built above the walls. We stood for some time on this side of the hill listening to the aerial music. Behind us was the deep purple of the valley,—the vast plain below was changing into a brown olive, a wild, desolate-looking expanse; but there was overhead a peculiar clearness of atmosphere.
The young moon hung high above the convent towers; its light helped us to find our way over the rough ground, till at last we reached one of the city gates, and went back through the dark streets to our inn.