To-day seemed an unreality, an idle impertinence; the real was that
long-buried past which gave its meaning to all around me, touching
the night with infinite pathos. Best of all, one's own being became
lost to consciousness; the mind knew only the phantasmal forms it
shaped, and was at peace in vision.






CHAPTER II

PAOLA





I slept little, and was very early on deck, scanning by the light of
dawn a mountainous coast. At sunrise I learnt that we were in sight
of Paola; as day spread gloriously over earth and sky, the vessel
hove to and prepared to land cargo. There, indeed, was the yellowish
little town which I had so long pictured; it stood at a considerable
height above the shore; harbour there was none at all, only a broad
beach of shingle on which waves were breaking, and where a cluster
of men, women and children stood gazing at the steamer. It gave me
pleasure to find the place so small and primitive. In no hurry to
land, I watched the unloading of merchandise (with a great deal of
shouting and gesticulation) into boats which had rowed out for the