to the eye; for green and purple blended formed a mirage round the vast stems of great old trees; the rich-green leafage, the yellow oranges and citrons, the ruddy grapes, a wandering intertwining under and over growth; and oh, didn't we wish we had found that inviting pass before!"
There now occurred a slight pause, which gave the narrator the opportunity of moistening his throat with a glass of sherry. He then resumed.
"Turning the eye from the valley, as we sat, pipe in mouth,—we had halted to look about us,—I may say that a lovelier panorama than that which now greeted our eager gaze would be difficult to meet with, save alone in those golden climes which border the Mediterranean on its European side.
"The morning sun," continued Steve, rising now from a poet into a colourist, "flashing across the Ægean, tinting with myriad miraculous hues what soon became a waving sea of molten splendour, fell on a gaunt spur of rock which overlooked the mysterious valley—the Val di Dimône, forming, in the midst of this fervid glare, a wondrous association, as real as unreal, of mountain ridges and darkling gloom, enshrouded valleys,—fathomless gulfs rather, rugged grim rivers, which ran, but irregularly—east and west across the length of this half-enchanted island.
"What, in fact, did we not see within the limits of the horizon of blending gold and purple which faded between sea and air, and was crossed by pearly lines, these again tinted rosily here and there! What an enchanting prospect—so boundless, so indescribably lovely! Islands, continents, seas, bays, cities, shifting and changing everlastingly! I believe now in Turner's painting of 'Ulysses and Polyphemus,' all vague, wandering, dreamy, as it is; but here we had it in its actual reality, from the mountain peaks to the cities far below: the latter, marble-white, dotting the distance; the blue level of the calm sea beyond, over which we could see stately ships glide along, the huge steam-frigate forging ahead, the smoke coming out of her vast funnel and curling into a thin vapour as it does now from the tip of my cigar.
"The sound of a bugle waking up the sleeping echoes in the mountains put every ear on the stretch. I knew by the call," continued Steve, "that it didn't belong to our side, as, for obvious reasons, there's a difference in notation, so to speak. We were at once on the qui vive; and by Jove, I can tell you, not before it was necessary.
"All eyes were turned in one direction,—that, of course, from whence the sound came; and across the peaks of the mountain ridge,—a singular conglomeration of limestone and lava,—there appeared a dozen military caps with beards peeping beneath their fronts,—caps which we knew but too well; and presently more appeared, making in all about twenty men, including rifles,—a trifle not to be forgotten.
"They crossed the ridge, evidently having a suspicion that we were somewhere about,—crossed the ridge, as I have said,—descended into a ravine, and watching for about an hour, I began to understand that they were seeking to circumvent and trap us, intending, by the détour they took, to ascend and surprise us on the plateau we occupied.
"'Keep your fire, lads,' said I, 'while I clamber up in this direction.' I saw a pathway bearing upward, looking very much like a fissure or enormous rent. 'I will fire as a signal if they are likely to outflank us;' and, rifle in hand, I ascended, soon attaining a height where, at a turn, a perpendicular wall of rock barred farther progress.
"Nevertheless, I could look down from my 'bad eminence.' Heavens! what a hideous gorge descended sheer below into fathomless deeps, as if it were the black and cindery crater of some volcano, which, having 'shut up shop' there, had transferred its business elsewhere; but, joking apart, anything more appalling than that measureless depth, its indescribable and lonely aggregate of all that is hideous, its black, cindery, and rifled interior, exceeded in the aggregate of what is stupendously terrible, all I had ever read of.
"Well and fitly was that awful region below called the Val di Dimône.
"Stretching forward to have a fuller view of this Tartarean region, and leaning against some loose conglomerate to look into the Hades where the ancient fires had burnt out, I found the small rampart yield, and—horror of horrors!—I felt myself sliding helplessly towards the verge of this awful gulf!"
At this juncture of the narrative, and naturally so,—for during a short pause ever so many minor events may occur, such as a glass of wine, a fresh cigar, &c,—the lady listeners gave utterance to a suppressed scream, and the gentlemen turned pale, each one shifting uneasily in his seat.
"Where I was descending to," went on the young man, "or how I was stayed in my way into the depths of an abyss that would have fitted one of the dismallest books of Dante's 'Inferno,' I know not. I found myself seated on a ledge, where I was safe for the present, though a little scratched and bruised; and I had clung with instinctive tenacity to my rifle: