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In the meantime they heard Maria hastening down the path, and then joyous exclamations and greetings. Dane, uneasy lest he had stayed too long on the terrace, proposed going downstairs. The ladies had certainly availed themselves of the carriage which was coming for him. Don Clemente also seemed very uneasy. Hiding his own agitation, Selva hastily took his arm.
The poem recounts how the wood-nymph Ambra, beloved of Lauro, is pursued by the river-god Ombrone, one of Arno's tributary divinities, and praying to Diana in her hour of need, is by her transformed into a rock . Lorenzo's Selva d'amore and Caccia col falcone might also be mentioned in the same connexion.
It was di Leynì, who mounted the marble steps behind Selva, and, stopping him under the arch of the Pompeian vestibule, spoke to him in a low tone, without so much as a glance at the magnificent scene which was spread out before them between the two groups of palms: the river of begonias, tumbling down the slope of the Aventine, between two banks of musae; the black and stormy sky, striped with white down above the battlements of Porta San Paolo, above the pyramid of Caio Cestio, and above the little grove of cypress which springs from the heart of Shelley.
A man's step, therefore it must be the Padre. Then she would speak to him. She threw aside the pencil, and went to meet him on the stairs. It was dark, and Don Clemente mistook her for Maria Selva. "He is quiet," the Benedictine said, before she could speak. "He seems to be asleep. What your sister told him did him so much good! The Professor thinks he will live through the night.
Young di Leynì, on the other hand, was very apprehensive of this danger knowing how many and how various were the Abbé Marinier's acquaintances in Rome, where he had lived for five years, pursuing certain historical studies; and he was also annoyed at not having known of his coming in time to write to Selva, suggesting the advisability of seeking to propitiate him, beginning through his palate.
Selva entered the vestibule, and reappeared a moment later with his wife. They went down the steps with di Leynì, and turned in the direction of the people, who seemed to be expecting them in the avenue of orange-trees. At that moment a volley of angry voices rang out at the gate. The road was full of people.
At this point Signora Selva involuntarily raised the light to observe her companion's face more narrowly, but she at once repented of the action, as if she had failed in respect towards that soul which was surely holy, surely in harmony with the manly and virginal beauty of the tall slender person, with the head habitually held erect, in a pose almost military in its frank modesty; with the face so noble in its spacious forehead, in its clear blue eyes, expressing at the same time womanly sweetness and manly fire.
The last to come forward was Maria Selva. She knelt at a short distance from the bed. The sick man smiled at her, and motioned to her to rise. "I have already blessed you in your husband," said he, "I cannot distinguish you. You are a part of his soul. You are his courage. Let this courage increase in the painful hours which await him.
Another female voice was heard saying aloud to her: "What a child! You should have kept quiet!" Maria gave a little cry of joy and disappeared, running down the winding stairway. "You knew, Professor Dane?" Selva asked. Yes, Dane knew. He had made Signora Dessalle's acquaintance at her villa in the Veneto the villa containing the frescoes by Tiepolo and had recently seen her in Rome.
She wrote to the unknown author in such ardent words of admiration, that Selva, in answering, alluded to his fifty-six years and his white hair. The girl replied that she was aware of both, that she neither offered nor asked for love, she only craved a few lines from time to time. Her letters sparkled with brilliant intellect.
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