It is also maintained that death is easier in the South.
I have a vague feeling now that such a thing as beauty without thorn
and love of the senses without torment does exist.
Wanda has discovered a delightful little villa and rented it for the
winter. It is situated on a charming hill on the left bank of the
Arno, opposite the Cascine. It is surrounded by an attractive garden
with lovely paths, grass plots, and magnificent meadow of camelias.
It is only two stories high, quadrangular in the Italian fashion. An
open gallery runs along one side, a sort of loggia with plaster-casts
of antique statues; stone steps lead from it down into the garden.
From the gallery you enter a bath with a magnificent marble basin,
from which winding stairs lead to my mistress' bed-chamber.
Wanda occupies the second story by herself.
A room on the ground floor has been assigned to me; it is very
attractive, and even has a fireplace.
I have roamed through the garden. On a round hillock I discovered a
little temple, but I found its door locked. However, there is a chink
in the door and when I glue my eye to it, I see the goddess of love
on a white pedestal.
A slight shudder passes over me. It seems to me as if she were
smiling at me saying: "Are you there? I have been expecting you."
* * * * *
It is evening. An attractive maid brings me orders to appear before
my mistress.
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