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Sam Gwent tried to get some conversation with Manella, but found it difficult. She did not wait on the visitors in the dining-room, and Gwent imagined he knew the reason why. Her beauty was of too brilliant and riante a type to escape the notice and admiration of men, whose open attentions were likely to be embarrassing to her, and annoying to her employers.
He had not seen it for years, but no picture could do her justice: as rich as was her coloring, as beautiful as were her eyes, her mouth, her riante face, her slim, willowy, girlish figure and fine carriage, it was not these that came to him when he thought of her; it was rather the spirit of which these were but the golden shell: it was the smile, the music, the sunshine, the radiance which came to him and warmed his blood and set his pulses throbbing across all those years.
She turned and looked at him so seriously—so unlike her riante self—that he felt startled, and did not know what to say for a minute. Then: "I don’t know," he said slowly; "I don’t know that I dare to. It rather startles me to think that maybe all of our future is laid out now." "It doesn’t startle me," she said. "It seems to me the natural plan of the universe.
But if we only THINK we love, when our feeling is the mere attraction of the senses and the lighter impulses then our crucifixion is in vain, and our death is death indeed. Some such thoughts as these had given Sylvie a new charm of manner since her arrival in Rome she was less mirthful, but more sympathetic less RIANTE, but infinitely prettier and more fascinating.
No sounds could be heard except the breathing of the fox terrier, and the subdued, monotonous sizzling of Vivien's fulvous locks against the insensate curling irons. Claude Turpin, sitting upon a pillow that he had thoughtfully placed upon the convolutions of the apartment sofa, narrowly watched the riante, lovely face of his wife.
Tom Herbert's laugh was contagious; his whole bearing so sunny and riante that he was charming. "Well, how did you awake from your dolce far niente?" I said. "By an effort of the will, old fellow for I really could not stand that. It was glorious, delightful that war-making in town; but there was a thorn in it. I was ashamed of myself.
The view was indeed superb from the leafy bosom of the valley, the green hills like smooth, undulating billows rolled upward, till their emerald verdure was lost in the dense purple shadows and tall peaks of the Apennines; the town of Avellino lay at my feet, small yet clearly defined as a miniature painting on porcelain; and a little further beyond and above me rose the gray tower of the Monte Vergine itself, the one sad and solitary-looking object in all the luxuriant riante landscape.
There is no bustle and throng of carriages, as in London; but you pass by numerous rows of neat houses, fronted with gardens, and adorned with all sorts of gay-looking creepers. Pretty market-gardens, with trim beds of plants and shining glass-houses, give the suburbs a riante and cheerful look; and, passing under the arch of the railway, we are in the city itself.
She herself was exceptionally bright and cheerful; with her riante features and agile movements, she reminded me of some tropical bird of gorgeous plumage swaying to and fro on a branch of equally gorgeous blossom. "You are like a prince in a fairy tale, Cesare," she said, with a little delighted laugh; "everything you do is superbly done!
Croly then goes on to insist on the intellectual embellishments of the Roman dinner; their variety, their grace, their adaptation to a festive purpose. The truth is, our English imagination, more profound than the Roman, is also more gloomy, less gay, less riante.
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