CHAPTER XV.
THE GROTTO OF EGERIA
Immediately subsequent to the conclusion of the ceremonies of the Easter week, Rome is suddenly deserted by the crowd of strangers who have thronged her churches, and elbowed each other in her galleries and palaces. They fly to Naples, Florence, Paris, London, as may be. And yet the environs of the Eternal City are well worth a more than casual visit.
It was now the month of May, and the glowing sun of Italy had already clothed the trees with their spring foliage, and scattered flowers into the lap of Earth. An excursion to the beautiful and romantic grotto of Egeria was planned—and our little party, accompanied by di Balzano, started in the early morning on our expedition. What an apparently happy society!—two lovers, on the eve of a marriage of inclination, a beloved child, a sincere friend, all united for the express purpose of enjoyment. Above us, the purple canopy of an Italian heaven—around, the varied beauties of scenery whilst the tepid and perfumed breeze of the South fanned our cheeks, and breathed new life into our frames. Surely no element of enjoyment was wanting; and yet, strange to relate, of all that party Ella alone appeared free from care. Evelyn’s attic brow was clouded, and her eyelids “drooped with unshed tears.” The usually cheerful and light-hearted Balzano was serious and silent—myself nervous and restless—for I had a task before me, which, however unpleasant, I had resolved on performing: it was a duty, and I would not shrink from it. Thus was our drive any thing but social.
On arriving at the spot where travellers quit their carriages to walk to the grotto, we alighted—and after patiently undergoing the usual amount of victimization from those harpies the guides, who remorselessly rob you of your illusions while they empty your pockets, we succeeded in debarrassing ourselves of their services on the promise of a second bottiglia,[[2]] on our return to the carriage. We were thus enabled to wander unmolested through the cool and secluded paths in the vicinity of the fountain and grotto of the nymph. Ella at once seized upon her friend Balzano, and insisted that he should take her on an exploring expedition! Evelyn and myself, soon weary with our wanderings, seated ourselves near the moss-clad basin, from which for ever flows the crystal spring, sacred to the mysterious loves of the immortal maiden and her Roman lover.
[2]. The Italian term for drink-money.
“I have often wondered,” she observed, “whether this legend of ancient Rome is founded on truth, or whether Egeria was but the symbol of the inspired teachings received by Numa in his solitary communings with nature.”
“I have always considered this as a myth,” I replied. “All the fables of ancient Greece and Rome had some hidden meaning other than a merely sensuous one—and this was probably as you have stated, an allegory.”
“And yet,” said Evelyn, “it suits my fancy—at least while here—to believe, that all-potent love drew the heaven born maiden from her solitudes, and that as she pillowed her fair head upon the manly bosom of her human lover, her throbbing heart timidly confessed that even Paradise had for her no higher joy. I believe with Byron, that love is ‘no habitant of earth.’”
“Ah! Evelyn,” I exclaimed, “you at least have no right to say so—for never was mortal woman more truly, more devotedly loved, than you have been, and still are.”
“Why not add,” said she, smiling sadly, “that never has mortal woman made a more ungrateful return? Granted, dear Mentor—and what then?”