CHAPTER XXXII.
LITTLE later, as darkness closed in without, she and Este sat in the larger chamber of the Lucumo's bier.
It was now on the turn of the new year, and the earth was green as an emerald, though it was midwinter, with the forests of holm-oak and pine, and the dense growth of olive, of box, of bear-berry, of alaternus, of pyracantha.
The fire burned; the lamp was lighted; she sat once again at her spinning, whilst he was modelling clay that she had brought for him from the bed of the Ombrone.
He had that facile skill in the arts which is the gift, and often, also, the curse, of his countrymen, since it is too readily
