As they reached the bare white platform at the entry to the upper
town, where Pope Paul's grim fortress once frowned to overawe the
audacious souls of the liberty-loving Umbrians, she turned mute
eyes to Alan for sympathy. And then for the first time the
terrible truth broke over her that Alan wasn't in the least
disappointed or disgusted; he knew it all before; he was accustomed
to it and liked it! As for Alan, he misinterpreted her glance,
indeed, and answered with that sort of proprietary pride we all of
us assume towards a place we love, and are showing off to a
newcomer: "Yes, I thought you'd like this view, dearest; isn't it
wonderful, wonderful? That's Assisi over yonder, that strange
white town that clings by its eyelashes to the sloping hill-side:
and those are the snowclad heights of the Gran Sasso beyond; and
that's Montefalco to the extreme right, where the sunset gleam just
catches the hill-top."
His words struck dumb horror into Herminia's soul. Poor child, how
she shrank at it! It was clear, then, instead of being shocked and
disgusted, Alan positively admired this human Sahara.
Pages:
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134