RODERICK HUDSON
distant views promised to be particularly clear, he determined to give himself this pleasure. The custodian unlocked the great wooden wicket, and he climbed through the winding shafts where the eager Roman crowds had pressed and surged, not pausing till he reached the highest accessible stage. The views were as fine as he had supposed; the lights on the Sabine mountains had never so seemed the very blurs of the scroll of history. He lingered, he gazed to his satisfaction; then he began to retrace his steps. In a moment he paused again on an abutment somewhat lower, from which the glance dropped dizzily into the deep vast cup. There are accidents of ruggedness in the upper portions of the Coliseum which offer a very fair imitation of the large excrescences on some Alpine face. In those days a multitude of delicate flowers and sprays of wild herb age had found a friendly soil in the hoary crevices, and they bloomed and nodded as on the shoulders of a mountain. Rowland was turning away when he heard a sound of voices rise from below. He had but to step slightly forward to find himself overlooking two persons who had seated themselves on a narrow ledge in a sunny corner. They had apparently an eye to extreme privacy, but they had not observed that their position was commanded by the abutment on which Rowland stood. One of these high climbers was a lady, thickly veiled, so that even if he had not been placed directly above her he could not have made out her face. The other was a young man whose face he also missed, but who presently gave a toss of clustered locks that
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