n! There was a sweetness, a delight, a
fascination about the spot, of which Pierre would have never wearied. And
for more than an hour he had wandered blissfully along roads edged with
ancient, knotty olive-trees, along dingle ways shaded by the spreading
foliage of neighbouring estates, and along perfumed paths, at each turn
of which the Campagna was seen stretching far away, when all at once he
was accosted by a person whom he was both surprised and annoyed to meet.
He had strolled down to some low ground near the railway station, some
old vineyards where a number of new houses had been built of recent
years, and suddenly saw a stylish pair-horse victoria, coming from the
direction of Rome, draw up close by, whilst its occupant called to him:
"What! Monsieur l'Abbe Froment, are you taking a walk here, at this early
hour?"

Thereupon Pierre recognised Count Luigi Prada, who alighted, shook hands
with him and began to walk beside him, whilst the empty carriage went on
in advance. And forthwith the Count explained his tastes: "I seldom take
the train," he said, "I drive over. It gives my horses an outing. I have
interests over here as you may know, a big building enterprise which is
unfortunately not progressing very well. And so, although the season is
advanced, I'm obliged to come rather more frequently than I care to do."

As Prada suggested, Pierre was acquainted with the story. The Boccaneras
had been obliged to sell a sumptuous villa which a cardinal of their
family had built at Frascati in accordance with the plans of Giacomo
della Porta, during the latter part of the sixteenth century: a regal
summer-residence it had been, finely wooded, with groves and basins and
cascades, and in particular a famous terrace projecting like a cape above
the Roman Campagna whose expanse stretches from the Sabine mountains to
the Mediterranean sands. Through the division of the property, Benedetta
had inherited from her mother some very extensive vineyards below
Frascati, and these she had brought as dowry to Prada at the very moment
when the building mania was extending from Rome into the provinces. And
thereupon Prada had conceived the idea of erecting on the spot a number
of middle-class villas like those which litter the suburbs of Paris. Few
purchasers, however, had come forward, the financial crash had
supervened, and he was now with difficulty liquidating this unlucky
business, having indemnified his wife at the time of thei