The Marble Faun; Or, The Romance of Monte Beni - Volume 1

it of lime, watching its fall, till it struck upon a stone bench

. If I were to do just as I like, at this moment, I should fling myself down after that bit of lime. It is a very singular temptation, and all but irresistible; partly, I believe, because it might be so easily done, an

to life in a way which you cannot conceive; it has been so rich, so warm, so sunny!-and beyond

, "a man would leave his life in the air, a

with a long shriek wavering after him, all the way! He does not leave his life in the air! No; but it keeps in him till he thumps against the stones, a horribly long while; then he lies there frightfully quiet, a dead heap of bruised flesh and broken bones! A quiver r

tures and ghastly look. "Nay, if the height of your tower affects your imagination thus, you do wrong to trust yourself here in solitude, and in the night-time, and at all u

ace in his hands, and was

the dream may be, I am too genuine a

Kenyon, not without an unshaped suspicion of the definite fact, knew that his condition must have resulted from the weight and gloom of life, now first, through the agency of a secret trouble, making themselves felt on a character that had heretofore breathed only an atmosphere of joy. The effect of this hard lesson, upon Donatello's intellect and disposition, was very

ler individuality, but developed out of grief and pain, and fearfully conscious of the pangs that had given it birth. Every human life, if it ascends to truth or delves down to reality, must undergo a similar change; but sometimes, perhaps, the instruction comes without the sorrow; and oftener the sorrow teaches no lesso

it, I might help him; but he finds it too horrible to be uttered, and fancies himself the only mortal that ever felt the anguish of remorse. Yes; he believes t

uously into his consciousness that strong love for Hilda, which it was his habit to confine in one of the heart's inner chambers, because he had found no encouragement to bring it forward. But now he felt a strange pull at his heart-strings. It could not have been more perceptible, if all the way between these battlements and Hilda's dove-cote had stretched an exquisitely sensitive cord, which, at the hither end, was knotted wi

f responsive affection less positive than whispered and broken words, or tender pressures of the hand, allowed and half returned; or glances, that distil many passionate avowals into one gleam of richly colored light. Even these should be weighed rigor

lies Rome," said the sculptor; "sha

answered Donatello;

re," observed Kenyon, "and with pleasant friends ab

asked D

nds whose lifetime was twisted with your own, I am enough of a fatalist to feel assured that you will meet that one again, wan

ined the Count; "none but yourself would

hat formed the boundary on the eastward. Above the whole valley, indeed, the sky was heavy with tumbling vapors, interspersed with which were tracts of blue, vividly brightened by the sun; but, in the east, where the tempest was yet trailing its ragged skirts, lay a dusky region of cloud and sullen mist, in which some of the hills appeared of a dark purple hue. Others becam

oughts from the plastic art, fancied that the scene represented the process of

however,-as I have myself experienced,-is apt to grow solid and as heavy as a stone the instant that you take in hand to describe it, But, in my own heart, I have found great use in clouds. Such silvery ones as those to the northward, for example, have often sugge

e people whom I knew. And now, if I watch it a little longer, it will take the figure of a monk recl

g figure, to be sure, but feminine, and with a despondent air, wonderfully well expressed in the wa

face," said the Count; adding, i

America; for there the western sky is wont to be set aflame with breadths and depths of color with which poets seek in vain to dye their verses, and which painters never dare to copy. As beheld from the tower of Monte Beni, the scene was tenderly magnificent, with mild gradations of hue and a lavish outpouring of gold, but

sounds, Italian owls substitute for the hoot of their kindred in other countries,-and flew darkling forth among the shrubbery. A convent bell rang out near at hand, and was not only echoed among the hills, but answered by another bell, and still another, wh

"the evening air grows co

er. It is my frequent custom to keep vigils,-and sometimes the thought occurs to me whether it were not better to keep them in yonde

exclaimed his frien

ighing. "Therefore, if at

keeps himself up to the intellectual and spiritual height which misery implies. A monk I judge from their sensual physiognomies, which meet me at every turn-is inevitably a beast! Their souls, if they have any to begin

"by your bold aspersion of men who ha

would shun the death of the soul! But, for my own part, if I had an insupportable burden,-if, for any cause, I were bent upon sacrificing every earthly hope as a

re a heretic!"

ion, Donatello had seemed identical with the Faun. And still there was a resemblance; for now, when first the idea was suggested of living for the welfare of his fellow-creatures, the or

xcept in bestowing alms among the paupers, who appeal to his beneficence at every step; nor does it occur to him that there are fitter modes of propitiating Heaven than by penances, pilgrimages, and offerings at shrines. Perhaps, too, their sys

ear of the tempest showed the circumference of hills and the great space between, as the last cannon-flash of a retreating army reddens across the field where it has fought

laying his hand o

said "Hark!" at

ulptor; being softened and molten, as it were, into the melancholy richness of the voice that sung them. It was as the murmur of a soul bewildered amid the sinful gloom of earth, and retaining only enough memory of a better state to make sad music of the wail, which would else have been a despairing shriek. Never was there

pward from the abyss, and not entirely to fall away as it ascended into a higher and purer region. At last, the auditors would have fan

en there was silence again, "had t

it spoke abides with me: the hope dies away with the breath tha

eft the poor penitent keep