peopled by shades. The dome of St. Peter's, shining
with a peculiar metallic lustre in the blue atmosphere looked gigantic
and so close that one might have thought to touch it. And the two
youthful Heroes, sons of the Swan, radiant with beauty in the vast
expanse of whiteness as in the apotheosis of their origin, seemed to be
the immortal Genii of Rome guarding the slumbers of the sacred city.

The carriage stopped in front of the palace and remained there for a
long time. The poet was once more absorbed in his impossible dream. And
Maria Ferres was quite near, was perhaps watching and dreaming also,
perhaps she too felt the grandeur of the night weighing upon her heart
and crushing it in vain.

Slowly the carriage passed her closed door, while the windows reflected
the full moon gazing at the hanging gardens of the Villa Aldobrandini
where the trees looked like aerial miracles. And as he passed, the poet
threw the bunch of roses on to the snow before Donna Maria's door in
token of homage.

CHAPTER V

'I saw--I guessed--I had been at the window for a long time, unable to
tear myself away from the fascination of all that whiteness. I saw the
carriage pass slowly in the snow. I felt that it was you, before I saw
you throw the roses. No words can describe to you the tenderness of my
tears. I wept for you from love and for the roses out of pity. Poor
roses! It seemed to me that they were alive and must suffer and die in
the snow. I seemed to hear them call to me and lament like human
creatures that have been deserted. As soon as your carriage had
disappeared, I leaned out of the window to look at them. I was on the
point of going down into the street to pick them up. But a servant was
still in the hall waiting up for some one. I thought of a thousand plans
but could find none that was practicable. I was in despair--You smile?
Truly, I hardly know what madness had come over me. I watched the
passers-by anxiously, my eyes full of tears. If any one of them had
trodden on the roses, he would have trampled upon my heart. And yet in
all this torment I was happy, happy in your love, in the delicacy of
your passionate homage, in your gentleness, your kindness.--When, at
last I fell asleep, I was sad and happy together; the roses must have
been nearly dead by that time. After an hour or two of sleep, the sound
of spades upon the pavement woke me up. They were shovelling away the
snow just in front of my door. I listened;