fantasies in reference to Dr. Rappaccini and the beautiful
Beatrice. On his way, happening to pass by a florist's, he bought
a fresh bouquet of flowers.

Ascending to his chamber, he seated himself near the window, but
within the shadow thrown by the depth of the wall, so that he
could look down into the garden with little risk of being
discovered. All beneath his eye was a solitude. The strange
plants were basking in the sunshine, and now and then nodding
gently to one another, as if in acknowledgment of sympathy and
kindred. In the midst, by the shattered fountain, grew the
magnificent shrub, with its purple gems clustering all over it;
they glowed in the air, and gleamed back again out of the depths
of the pool, which thus seemed to overflow with colored radiance
from the rich reflection that was steeped in it. At first, as we
have said, the garden was a solitude. Soon, however,--as Giovanni
had half hoped, half feared, would be the case,--a figure
appeared beneath the antique sculptured portal, and came down
between the rows of plants, inhaling their various perfumes as if
she were one of those beings of old classic fable that lived upon
sweet odors. On again beholding Beatrice, the young man was even
startled to perceive how much her beauty exceeded his
recollection of it; so brilliant, so vivid, was its character,
that she glowed amid the sunlight, and, as Giovanni whispered to
himself, positively illuminated the more shadowy intervals of the
garden path. Her face being now more revealed than on the former
occasion, he was struck by its expression of simplicity and
sweetness,--qualities that had not entered into his idea of her
character, and which made him ask anew what manner of mortal she
might be. Nor did he fail again to observe, or imagine, an