Kalmon cared little for quail-shooting, and as the carriage was going
back to Rome he took advantage of it to reach the city, and took his
departure about nine o'clock in the morning.

"By the way, how did you sleep?" asked Corbario as he shook hands at
parting. "I forgot to ask you."

"Soundly, thank you," answered the Professor.

And he drove away, waving his felt hat to his hosts.




CHAPTER III


Marcello coughed a little as he and Corbario trudged home through the
sand under the hot May sun. It was sultry, though there were few clouds,
and everything that grew looked suddenly languid; each flower and shrub
gave out its own peculiar scent abundantly, the smell of last year's
rotting leaves and twigs all at once returned and mingled with the
odours of green things and of the earth itself, and the heavy air was
over-rich with it all, and hard to breathe. By and by the clouds would
pile themselves up into vast grey and black fortresses, far away beyond
Rome, between the Alban and the Samnite hills, and the lightning would
dart at them and tear them to pieces in spite, while the thunder roared
out at each home-thrust that it was well done; and then the spring rain
would sweep the Campagna, by its length and breadth, from the mountains