I say in
Rome especially, because the Roman air is an exquisite medium for such
impressions. The golden sunshine mingles with them, the deep stillness
of the past, so vivid yet, though it is nothing but a void full of
names, seems to throw a solemn spell upon them. The blinds were partly
closed in the windows of the Capitol, and a clear, warm shadow
rested on the figures and made them more mildly human. Isabel sat
there a long time, under the charm of their motionless grace,
wondering to what, of their experience, their absent eyes were open,
and how, to our ears, their alien lips would sound. The dark red walls
of the room threw them into relief; the polished marble floor
reflected their beauty. She had seen them all before, but her
enjoyment repeated itself, and it was all the greater because she
was glad again, for the time, to be alone. At last, however, her
attention lapsed, drawn off by a deeper tide of life. An occasional
tourist came in, stopped and stared a moment at the Dying Gladiator,
and then passed out of the other door, creaking over the smooth
pavement. At the end of half an hour Gilbert Osmond reappeared,
apparently in advance of his companions.
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