and wooded summits, such downs and moors, with the yellow dragon's-mouth, the amethyst-hued cyclamen, in their grass, as she had had always about her in autumn in Maremma. Even the tumuli and the tombs that often marked the way were familiar features in her home landscape. But that blue dome in the blue air afar off, that bell-flower which seemed to hang downwards from the floating clouds, that was new, strange, marvellous; that seemed to call her forward towards it, that seemed to say to her, 'hasten, hasten, here is the city of God.'
Only before her, between her and it, went the form of Saturnino like the shadow of Death.
When they left the glens and broken ground, and came out on the level turf of the Campagna nearer Rome, she was afraid that he would turn and see her. But he did not. He was walking a little lamely now, but with a dogged persistence, as if the thoughts with which he was accompanied would not let him delay or rest.
He knew very well that now he was going with open eyes straight into the jaws of danger, and his dread of capture was
