BOOK THE THIRD
2. Chapter II
(continued)
As the last words of the song trembled over the sea, Ione raised her
looks--they met those of her lover. Happy Nydia!--happy in thy affliction,
that thou couldst not see that fascinated and charmed gaze, that said so
much--that made the eye the voice of the soul--that promised the
impossibility of change!
But, though the Thessalian could not detect that gaze, she divined its
meaning by their silence--by their sighs. She pressed her hands lightly
across her breast, as if to keep down its bitter and jealous thoughts; and
then she hastened to speak--for that silence was intolerable to her.
'After all, O Glaucus!' said she, 'there is nothing very mirthful in your
strain!'
'Yet I meant it to be so, when I took up thy lyre, pretty one. Perhaps
happiness will not permit us to be mirthful.'
'How strange is it,' said Ione, changing a conversation which oppressed her
while it charmed--'that for the last several days yonder cloud has hung
motionless over Vesuvius! Yet not indeed motionless, for sometimes it
changes its form; and now methinks it looks like some vast giant, with an
arm outstretched over the city. Dost thou see the likeness--or is it only
to my fancy?'
'Fair Ione! I see it also. It is astonishingly distinct. The giant seems
seated on the brow of the mountain, the different shades of the cloud appear
to form a white robe that sweeps over its vast breast and limbs; it seems to
gaze with a steady face upon the city below, to point with one hand, as thou
sayest, over its glittering streets, and to raise the other (dost thou note
it?) towards the higher heaven. It is like the ghost of some huge Titan
brooding over the beautiful world he lost; sorrowful for the past--yet with
something of menace for the future.'
'Could that mountain have any connection with the last night's earthquake?
They say that, ages ago, almost in the earliest era of tradition, it gave
forth fires as AEtna still. Perhaps the flames yet lurk and dart beneath.'
'It is possible,' said Glaucus, musingly.
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