The Marble Faun Volume 1 - Page 44/130

All of us, after a long abode in cities, have felt the blood gush more

joyously through our veins with the first breath of rural air; few could

feel it so much as Donatello, a creature of simple elements, bred in

the sweet sylvan life of Tuscany, and for months back dwelling amid the

mouldy gloom and dim splendor of old Rome. Nature has been shut out for

numberless centuries from those stony-hearted streets, to which he had

latterly grown accustomed; there is no trace of her, except for what

blades of grass spring out of the pavements of the less trodden piazzas,

or what weeds cluster and tuft themselves on the cornices of ruins.

Therefore his joy was like that of a child that had gone astray from

home, and finds him suddenly in his mother's arms again.

At last, deeming it full time for Miriam to keep her tryst, he climbed

to the tiptop of the tallest tree, and thence looked about him, swaying

to and fro in the gentle breeze, which was like the respiration of that

great leafy, living thing. Donatello saw beneath him the whole circuit

of the enchanted ground; the statues and columns pointing upward from

among the shrubbery, the fountains flashing in the sunlight, the paths

winding hither and thither, and continually finding out some nook of new

and ancient pleasantness. He saw the villa, too, with its marble front

incrusted all over with basreliefs, and statues in its many niches. It

was as beautiful as a fairy palace, and seemed an abode in which the

lord and lady of this fair domain might fitly dwell, and come forth each

morning to enjoy as sweet a life as their happiest dreams of the past

night could have depicted. All this he saw, but his first glance had

taken in too wide a sweep, and it was not till his eyes fell almost

directly beneath him, that Donatello beheld Miriam just turning into the

path that led across the roots of his very tree.

He descended among the foliage, waiting for her to come close to the

trunk, and then suddenly dropped from an impending bough, and alighted

at her side. It was as if the swaying of the branches had let a ray

of sunlight through. The same ray likewise glimmered among the gloomy

meditations that encompassed Miriam, and lit up the pale, dark beauty of

her face, while it responded pleasantly to Donatello's glance.

"I hardly know," said she, smiling, "whether you have sprouted out of

the earth, or fallen from the clouds. In either case you are welcome."

And they walked onward together.