Its colour was brown, and it revealed not a single
house--nothing but the narrow circle of the walls, and behind
them seventeen towers--all that was left of the fifty-two
that had filled the city in her prime. Some were only
stumps, some were inclining stiffly to their fall, some were
still erect, piercing like masts into the blue. It was
impossible to praise it as beautiful, but it was also
impossible to damn it as quaint.
Meanwhile Philip talked continually, thinking this to be
great evidence of resource and tact. It showed Miss Abbott
that he had probed her to the bottom, but was able to
conquer his disgust, and by sheer force of intellect
continue to be as agreeable and amusing as ever. He did not
know that he talked a good deal of nonsense, and that the
sheer force of his intellect was weakened by the sight of
Monteriano, and by the thought of dentistry within those walls.
The town above them swung to the left, to the right, to
the left again, as the road wound upward through the trees,
and the towers began to glow in the descending sun. As they
drew near, Philip saw the heads of people gathering black
upon the walls, and he knew well what was happening--how the
news was spreading that a stranger was in sight, and the
beggars were aroused from their content and bid to adjust
their deformities; how the alabaster man was running for his
wares, and the Authorized Guide running for his peaked cap
and his two cards of recommendation--one from Miss M'Gee,
Maida Vale, the other, less valuable, from an Equerry to the
Queen of Peru; how some one else was running to tell the
landlady of the Stella d'Italia to put on her pearl necklace
and brown boots and empty the slops from the spare bedroom;
and how the landlady was running to tell Lilia and her boy
that their fate was at hand.
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