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It would do me good to make a clean breast of it, dear
brother confessor. Shall we take the little boat and go?"
[*] The grotto described in this book is not really the Grotto of
Virgil, but it is often called so by the fishermen along the coast.
"Of course," he said.
"I'll get a hat."
She was away for two or three minutes. During that time Artois stood
by the window that looked towards Ischia. The stillness of the day was
intense, and gave to his mind a sensation of dream. Far off across the
gray-and-white waters, partially muffled in clouds that almost
resembled mist, the mountains of Ischia were rather suggested,
mysteriously indicated, than clearly seen. The gray cliffs towards
Bagnoli went down into motionless water gray as they were, but of a
different, more pathetic shade.
There was a luminous whiteness in the sky that affected the eyes, as
snow does.
Artois, as he looked, thought this world looked very old, a world
arranged for the elderly to dwell in.


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