the Peneus, cross the Larissean plain, pass the straits of Thermopylae, and
ascending in succession Oeta and Parnassus, descend to the fertile plain of
Athens. Women bear with resignation these long drawn ills, but to a man's
impatient spirit, the slow motion of our cavalcade, the melancholy repose
we took at noon, the perpetual presence of the pall, gorgeous though it
was, that wrapt the rifled casket which had contained Raymond, the
monotonous recurrence of day and night, unvaried by hope or change, all the
circumstances of our march were intolerable. Perdita, shut up in herself,
spoke little. Her carriage was closed; and, when we rested, she sat leaning
her pale cheek on her white cold hand, with eyes fixed on the ground,
indulging thoughts which refused communication or sympathy.
We descended from Parnassus, emerging from its many folds, and passed
through Livadia on our road to Attica. Perdita would not enter Athens; but
reposing at Marathon on the night of our arrival, conducted me on the
following day, to the spot selected by her as the treasure house of
Raymond's dear remains. It was in a recess near the head of the ravine to
the south of Hymettus. The chasm, deep, black, and hoary, swept from the
summit to the base; in the fissures of the rock myrtle underwood grew and
wild thyme, the food of many nations of bees; enormous crags protruded into
the cleft, some beetling over, others rising perpendicularly from it. At
the foot of this sublime chasm, a fertile laughing valley reached from sea
to sea, and beyond was spread the blue Aegean, sprinkled with islands, the
light waves glancing beneath the sun. Close to the spot on which we stood,
was a solitary rock, high and conical, which, divided on every side from
the mountain, seemed a nature-hewn pyramid; with little labour this block
was reduced to a perfect shape; the narrow cell was scooped out beneath in
which Raymond was placed, and a short inscription, carved in the living
stone, recorded the name of its tenant, the cause and aera of his death.
Every thing was accomplished with speed under my directions. I agreed to
leave the finishing and guardianship of the tomb to the head of the
religious establishment at Athens, and by the end of October prepared for
my return to England. I mentioned this to Perdita. It was painful to appear
to drag her from the last scene that spoke of her lost one; but to linger
here was vain, and my very soul was sick with its yearnin
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