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brain when he had said that the chapel belonged
to nobody? Why not to me? Why should I
not buy Mastro Vincenzo’s house, and join the
chapel and the house with garlands of vines and
avenues of cypresses and columns supporting
white loggias, peopled with marble statues of
gods and bronzes of emperors and . . . I closed
my eyes, lest the beautiful vision should vanish,
and gradually realities faded away into the
twilight of dreamland.
A tall figure wrapped in a rich mantle stood by
my side.
“It shall all be yours,” he said in a melodious
voice, waving his hand across the horizon. “The
chapel, the garden, the house, the mountain with
its castle, all shall be yours, if you are willing to
pay the price!”
“Who are you, phantom from the unseen?”
“I am the immortal spirit of this place.
Time has no meaning for me. Two thousand
years ago I stood here where we now stand by
the side of another man, led here by his destiny
as you have been led here by yours. He did not
ask for happiness as you do, he only asked for
forgetfulness and peace, and he believed he could
find it here on this lonely island. I told him the
price he would have to pay: the branding of an
untarnished name with infamy through all ages.
“He accepted the bargain, he paid the price.
For eleven years he lived here surrounded by a
few trusty friends, all men of honour and
integrity. Twice he started on his way to return to
his palace on the Palatine Hill. Twice his courage
failed him, Rome never saw him again. He died
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