The Hill of Venus

"_Thou art all shrouded, in a gauzy veil, Sombrous and cloudlike, all except that face Of subtle loveliness, though weirdly pale. Thy soft, slow-gliding footsteps leave no trace And stir no sound. Thy drooping hands infold Their frail white fingers, and unconscious hold A poppy-wreath: thine anodyne of grace._

_Thy hair is like a twilight round thy head, Thine eyes are shadowed wells from Lethe-stream, With drowsy, subterranean waters fed; Obscurely deep without a stir or gleam. The gazer drinks in from them with his gaze An opiate charm, to curtain all his days, A passive languor of oblivious dream._"

--JAMES THOMSON.

CONTENTS

BOOK THE FIRST The Sacrifice

I. The Summons II. The Pledge III. Vistas IV. Proserpina V. Waves of Destiny VI. The Broken Troth VII. The Passage

BOOK THE SECOND The Pilgrimage

I. The Vigil of Santa Maria Assunta II. The Passing of Conradino III. Tonsure and Thorn IV. The Call V. The Dells of Vallombrosa VI. The Duke of Spoleto VII. Rome!

BOOK THE THIRD The Bondage

I. The White Lady II. The Feast at the Capitol III. Quaint Wayfarers IV. The Pawn of the Church V. The Red Tower

BOOK THE FOURTH The Passion

I. Siren Land II. The Lady of Shadows III. An Interlude IV. The Hill of Venus V. Twilight Waters VI. The Crimson Night

BOOK THE FIFTH The Apostacy

I. A Legend II. Memories III. The Grail of Love IV. Dead Leaves V. The Abbey of Farfa VI. Retribution VII. The Quest VIII. The Anchoress of Narni IX. The Dawn

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"He stared spellbound" "Ilaria had interposed herself between the two" "He caught her to him with all the old-time love" "'They lied,' he cried. 'Give me but life'"

Book the First

THE SACRIFICE

The Hill of Venus

BOOK THE FIRST

CHAPTER I

THE SUMMONS

It was the time of the summer solstice in the year 1266.

Evening was falling on the Basilicata, the shadowy, hazy twilight of the fading midsummer day. The pale green leaves of the olive-branches hung limply from their boughs, but the great willows which drooped over the meandering tide of the Garigliano now and then stirred a feathery twig in response to the delicate touch of the evening breeze. The sun had entered the waters of ancient Liris for his evening bath, leaving his robes of crimson and gold draped in the western sky.

Everything in this fabled land had grown enchanted in the sunset glow. The plane-trees drooped their leaves, as if wrapped in silent dreams. In the poppy-fields the shrill insect voices were hushed, wan presage of the coming dusk. The Liris rolled his sunset crimson gold between the broken scenery of the hills, and the dark forests of the Murgie spread waving shadows over the sun-kissed Apulian plains.

To eastward the towering promontory of Monte Gargano, with the shrines of St. Michael, patron of the Sea, rose sheer and precipitous from the restless element which laved its base. The milk-white Apulian towns of Foggia, Trani and Bitonto faded into the horizon to southward, and the shadowy outlines of Castel del Monte, rising upon a conical hill in the remote Basilicata, terminated the view to westward.

Out of the green dusk of forest aisles in which lost sunbeams quivered, there rode a horseman into the shadowy silence of the deepening twilight.

Horse and rider alike seemed to feel the sway of the hour. Their appearance did not so much as startle a bird, which from the boughs of a carob-tree was languidly carolling a slumber song, that melted away in the purple twilight without a single vibration. Rider and steed drooped; the one in his saddle, the other over the fragrant grass, into which the tired hoofs sank at every step.