The sky was cloudless, effulgent blue. The rooks were cawing amid the boughs, and all nature appeared awaking to happiness. And then presently these clouds began to wear thin and expose steep, deep slopes, going down and down, with grass and pine-trees, down and down, and at last, through a great rent in the clouds, bare roofs, shining like very minute pin-heads, and a road like a fibre of white silk-Macugnana, in Italy. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. He seemed to be hesitating between two courses of action.
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