And so, in the
reality, he turns his back upon the crowd and strolls away, not caring
whither he goes until, by a mere accident, he finds himself upon the
height of Sant' Onofrio, or standing before the great fountains of the
Acqua Paola, or perhaps upon the drive which leads through the old Villa
Corsini along the crest of the Janiculum. Then, indeed, the scene thus
changes, the actress is gone and the woman is before him; the capital of
modern Italy sinks like a vision into the earth out of which it was
called up, and the capital of the world rises once more, unchanged,
unchanging and unchangeable, before the wanderer's eyes. The greater
monuments of greater times are there still, majestic and unmoved, the
larger signs of a larger age stand out clear and sharp; the tomb of
Hadrian frowns on the yellow stream, the heavy hemisphere of the
Pantheon turns its single opening to the sky, the enormous dome of the
world's cathedral looks silently down upon the sepulchre of the world's
masters.
Then the sun sets and the wanderer goes down again through the chilly
evening air to the city below, to find it less modern than he had
thought.
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