the rainless blue; and beyond it, among the ridges and pediments of
noble buildings, a broad glimpse of the bright blue sea.

The room was fitted up in the purest Greek style, not without an
affectation of archaism, in the severe forms and subdued half-tints
of the frescoes which ornamented the walls with scenes from the old
myths of Athene. Yet the general effect, even under the blazing sun
which poured in through the mosquito nets of the courtyard windows,
was one of exquisite coolness, and cleanliness, and repose. The
room had neither carpet nor fireplace; and the only movables in it
were a sofa-bed, a table, and an arm-chair, all of such delicate and
graceful forms as may be seen on ancient vases of a far earlier
period than thatwhereof we write. But, most probably, had any of us
entered that room that morning, we should not have been able to
spare a look either for the furniture, or the general effect, or the
Museum gardens, or the sparkling Mediterranean beyond; but we should
have agreed that the room was quite rich enough for human eyes, for
the sake of one treasure which it possessed, and, beside which,
nothing was worth a moment's glance. For in the light arm-chair,
reading a manuscript which lay on the table, sat a woman, of some
five-and-twenty years, evidently the tutelary goddess of that little
shrine, dressed in perfect keeping with the archaism of the chamber,
in simple old snow-white Ionic robe, falling to the feet and
reaching to the throat, and of that peculiarly severe and graceful
fashion in which the upper part of the dress falls downward again
from the neck to the waist in a sort of cape, entirely hiding the
outline of the bust, while it leaves the arms and the point of the
shoulders bare. Her dress was entirely without ornament, except the
two narrow purple stripes down the front, which marked her rank as a
Roman citizen, the gold embroidered shoes upon her feet, and the