"
Presently some cacciatori came with a poodle-dog. They explained
to us that though the poodle was "a truly hunting dog," he would
not touch the sparrows, which to do him justice he did not. There
was a tame jay also, like the sparrows going about loose, but, like
them, aware when he was well off.
After dinner we went up to the castle, which I have now visited off
and on for many years, and like always better and better each time
I go there. I know no place comparable to it in its own way. I
know no place so pathetic, and yet so impressive, in its decay. It
is not a ruin--all ruins are frauds--it is only decayed. It is a
kind of Stokesay or Ightham Mote, better preserved than the first,
and less furnished than the second, but on a grander scale than
either, and set in incomparably finer surroundings. The path
towards it passes the church, which has been spoiled. Outside this
there are parts of old Roman columns from some temple, stuck in the
ground; inside are two statues called St. Peter and St. Paul, but
evidently effigies of some magistrates in the Roman times. If the
traveller likes to continue the road past the church for three-
quarters of a mile or so, he will get a fine view of the castle,
and if he goes up to the little chapel of S. Quirico on the top of
the hill on his right hand, he will look down upon it and upon
Arona. We will suppose, however, that he goes straight for the
castle itself; every moment as he approaches it, it will seem finer
and finer; presently he will turn into a vineyard on his left, and
at once begin to climb.
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