way under my feet. Two cows and three sheep were grazing on the barren
sides of the hillock, and were tended by an old half-blind servant, who
was telling his beads seated on an ancient escutcheon of stone, which
had fallen from the arch of the doorway.

He told me that Raphael was not gone, but had been ill for the last two
months; that it was plain he would never leave the tower but for the
churchyard; and the old man pointed with his meagre hand to the burying
ground on the opposite hill. I asked if I could see Raphael. "Oh, yes,"
said the old man; "go up the steps, and draw the string of the latch of
the great hall-door on the left. You will find him stretched on his
bed, as gentle as an angel, and," added he drawing the back of his hand
across his eyes, "as simple as a child!" I mounted the steep and
worn-out steps which wound round the outside of the tower, and ended at
a small platform covered by a tiled roof, the broken tiles of which
strewed the stone steps. I lifted the latch of the door on my left, and
entered. Never shall I forget the sight. The chamber was vast,
occupying all the space between the four walls of the tower; it was
lighted from two windows, with stone cross-bars, and the dusty and
broken lozenge-shaped panes of glass were set in lead. The huge beams
of the ceiling were blackened by smoke, the floor was paved with
bricks, and in a high chimney with roughly fluted wooden jambs, an iron
pot filled with potatoes was suspended over a fire, where a long branch
was burning, or rather smoking. The only articles of furniture were two
high-backed arm-chairs, covered with a plain-colored stuff, of which it
was impossible to guess the original color; a large table, half covered
with an unbleached linen table-cloth in which a loaf was wrapped, the
other half being strewed pell-mell with papers and books; and, lastly,
a rickety, worm-eaten four-post bedstead, with its blue serge curtains
looped back to admit the rays of the sun, and the air from the open