50 



HOW THE AUTHOR WAS LED TO 



translucent waters. My glance pierced them to a great depth, and 

 saw nothing but solitude, and the white and black rocks which form 

 the bed of that gulf of marble. 



The littoral, exceedingly narrow, is nothing but a small cornice, an 

 extremely confined border, a mere eyebrow (sourcil) of the mountains, 

 as the Latins would have said. To ascend the ladder and overlook 

 the gulf is, even for the most robust, a violent gymnastic effort. My 

 sole promenade was a little quay, or rather a rugged circular road, 

 which wound, with a breadth of about three feet, between ancient 

 garden walls, rocks, and precipices. 





Deep was the silence, sparkling the sea, but all lonesome and 

 monotonous, except for the passage of a few distant barks. Work 

 was prohibited to me ; for the first time for thirty years, I was separated 

 from my pen, and had escaped from that paper and ink existence in 

 which I had previously lived. This pause, which I thought so 



