reached the distant fringe of the sky. At the roadside on either hand
there were still and ever tall withered thistles and giant fennel with
yellow umbels. Then, after a time, came a team of four oxen, that had
been kept ploughing until late, and stood forth black and huge in the
pale atmosphere and mournful solitude. Farther on some flocks of sheep,
whence the breeze wafted a tallowy odour, set patches of brown amidst the
herbage, which once more was becoming verdant; whilst at intervals a dog
was heard to bark, his voice the only distinct sound amidst the low
quivering of that silent desert where the sovereign peacefulness of death
seemed to reign. But all at once a light melody arose and some larks flew
up, one of them soaring into the limpid golden heavens. And ahead, at the
far extremity of the pure sky, Rome, with her towers and domes, grew
larger and larger, like a city of white marble springing from a mirage
amidst the greenery of some enchanted garden.

"Matteo!" Prada called to his coachman, "pull up at the Osteria Romana."
And to his companions he added: "Pray excuse me, but I want to see if I
can get some new-laid eggs for my father. He is so fond of them."

A few minutes afterwards the carriage stopped. At the very edge of the
road stood a primitive sort of inn, bearing the proud and sonorous name
of "Antica Osteria Romana." It had now become a mere house of call for
carters and chance sportsmen, who ventured to drink a flagon of white
wine whilst eating an omelet and a slice of ham. Occasionally, on
Sundays, some of the humble classes would walk over from Rome and make
merry there; but the week days often went by without a soul entering the
place, such was its isolation amidst the bare Campagna.

The Count was already springing from the carriage. "I shall only be a
minute," said he as he turned away.