The blood of tears, flooding all mortal things,
And the immortal sorrow be yet whole;

Let the depths swallow me, let there as at first
Be darkness, so I see the glimmerings
Of light that rain on my unconquered soul!

Die XII. Septembris MDCCCLXXXVI.'

CHAPTER II

Schifanoja was situated on the heights at that point where the chain of
hills, after following the curving coast line, took a landward bend and
sloped away towards the plain. Notwithstanding that it had been built in
the latter half of the eighteenth century--by the Cardinal Alfonso
Carafa d'Ateleta--the villa showed a certain purity of architectural
design. It was a square building of two stories, with arched colonnades
alternating with the apartments, which imparted to the whole edifice a
look of lightness and grace. It was a real summer palace, open on all
sides to the breath of the sea. At the side towards the sloping gardens,
a wide hall opened on to a noble double flight of steps leading to a
platform like a vast terrace, surrounded by a stone balustrade and
adorned by two fountains. At either end of this terrace, other flights
of steps interrupted by more terraces led by easy stages almost to the
sea, affording a full view from the level ground of their seven-fold
windings through superb verdure and masses of roses. The special glories
of Schifanoja were its cypresses and its roses. Roses were there of
every kind and for every season, enough '_pour en tirer neuf ou dix
muytz d'eaue rose_' as the poet of the _Vergier d'honneur_ would have
said. The cypresses, sharp-pointed and sombre, more hieratic than the
Pyramids, more enigmatic than the obelisks, were in no respect inferior
either to those of the Villa d'Este, or the Villa Mondragone or any of
the giants growing round the glorious Roman villas.

The Marchesa d'Ateleta was in the habit of spending the summer and part
of the autumn at Schifanoja; for, though a thorough woman of the world,
she was fond of the country and its freedom, and liked to keep open
house there for her friends. She had lavished every care and attention
upon Andrea during his illness; had been to him like an elder sister,
almost a mother, and untiring in her devotion. She cherished a profound
affection for her cousin, was ever ready to excuse or pardon, was a good
and frank friend to him, capable of understanding many things, always at
his beck and call, always cheerful, always bright a