It was impossible not to enjoy the magnificent
scenery of the Apennines and the Italian Alps, and there was a tacit
agreement among the travelers to abstain from sombre allusions. The
effect of this delicate compact seemed excellent; it ensured them a
week's intellectual sunshine. Roderick sat and gazed out of the window
with a fascinated stare, and with a perfect docility of attitude. He
concerned himself not a particle about the itinerary, or about any
of the wayside arrangements; he took no trouble, and he gave none. He
assented to everything that was proposed, talked very little, and led
for a week a perfectly contemplative life. His mother rarely removed
her eyes from him; and if, a while before, this would have extremely
irritated him, he now seemed perfectly unconscious of her observation
and profoundly indifferent to anything that might befall him. They spent
a couple of days on the Lake of Como, at a hotel with white porticoes
smothered in oleander and myrtle, and the terrace-steps leading down
to little boats with striped awnings. They agreed it was the earthly
paradise, and they passed the mornings strolling through the perfumed
alleys of classic villas, and the evenings floating in the moonlight in
a circle of outlined mountains, to the music of silver-trickling
oars.
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