Was she not closer to me, as temperate genius of
the North, than Dorothy, out of the languor and the romanticism of the
South? Was not Douglas closer to the North, which Isabel seemed to me
now to symbolize, than to that South with which his fate had now so long
been entangled?
A step is heard. The old stair creaks, and Serafino's head appears above
the railing. We look up, aroused from our enchantment. The afternoon
lights are slanting across the Campagna. It is time to go. I have
overpaid the waiter. He honestly offers to rectify it. Isabel laughs,
seeing that I am oblivious of such worldly things. That breaks the
spell. And we drive back to Rome and our pension.
CHAPTER LIII
I begin to wonder about my Reverdy. At the school I see him in
association with English boys. He is not so strong as they, not so
handsome, not so alert and apt. Isabel has never had a child and wants
one with consuming passion. This boy is mine, but am I better off than
Isabel? My life grows clearer to me. I have receded from it and can see
it better. I can look out upon Rome and then close my eyes and recall
Chicago. I think of my long years of money making; then I turn to
reflection upon art and life. I thrill in the presence of Isabel; then I
remember the mild but tender passion which Dorothy aroused in me.
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