From the place where
she sat she could see one far off, if any came.
She sank down on the wet ground, and drew up her knees and pulled her
cloak round her; and gradually her head bent forward and rested upon her
hands, till she sat there like a figure of grief outlined in black
against the moonlight on the great wall. She had forgotten where she
was, and that there was any time in the world.
Half an hour passed, and the moon sank low, and an hour, and the deadly
white mist began to rise in the shadow round the base of the Colosseum,
and crept up under the trees; and if any one had come upon her then, he
would have seen its dull whiteness crawling round her feet and body, a
hand-breadth above the wet ground. But she did not know; she had
forgotten everything.
Nothing was real any more. She could have believed that her father had
killed her and left her corpse there, strangely sitting, though quite
dead.
Then she knew that the light had gone out; and suddenly she felt her
teeth chatter, and a chill ran through her bones that was bad to feel.
She raised her head and saw that the great walls were dark against the
starry sky, and she rose with an effort, as if her limbs had suddenly
become lead. But she could walk, though it was like walking in sleep.
She did not afterwards remember how she got home, but she had a vague
recollection of having lost her way, and of finding a cab at last, and
then of letting herself into the little apartment in the dark.
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