Say that he trembled in every nerve with a sense of
the beauty and sweetness of life; that he rebelled and protested and
shrieked; that he was buried alive, with his eyes open, and his heart
beating to madness; that he clung to every blade of grass and every
way-side thorn as he passed; that it was the most horrible spectacle you
ever witnessed; that it was an outrage, a murder, a massacre!"
"Good heavens, man, are you insane?" Rowland cried.
"I never have been saner. I don't want to be bad company, and in this
beautiful spot, at this delightful hour, it seems an outrage to break
the charm. But I am bidding farewell to Italy, to beauty, to honor, to
life! I only want to assure you that I know what I lose. I know it in
every pulse of my heart! Here, where these things are all loveliest, I
take leave of them. Farewell, farewell!"
During their passage of the Saint Gothard, Roderick absented himself
much of the time from the carriage, and rambled far in advance, along
the huge zigzags of the road. He displayed an extraordinary activity;
his light weight and slender figure made him an excellent pedestrian,
and his friends frequently saw him skirting the edge of plunging chasms,
loosening the stones on long, steep slopes, or lifting himself against
the sky, from the top of rocky pinnacles.
Pages:
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571