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 (sowrei) 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 
