My windows look out upon the vast blueness of the Mediterranean,
encompassed by bands of a darker blue on the far horizon. Close to the
villa, the crisped waves glitter like fiery scales; in the distance,
the sea is glassy and still, as if lulled to sleep in its blue veil.
White lateen sails flash in the sun, and once a day a steamer from
Marseilles for Genoa passes hence, dragging in her wake woolly coils
of smoke that hang over the sea like a dark cloud, until it
gradually dissolves and disappears. The restfulness of the place is
indescribable. Thoughts dissolve like yonder black cloud between the
blue sky and azure sea, and life is a blissful vegetation.
I felt very tired yesterday, but to-day I inhale with eager lungs the
fresh sea-breezes, that leave a salty taste on my lips. Say what they
like, the Riviera is one of the gems of God's creation. I fancy to
myself how the wind whistles at Ploszow; the sudden changes from mild
spring weather to wintry blasts; the darkness, sleet, and hail, with
intermittent gleams of sunshine. Here the sky is transparent and
serene; the soft breeze which even now caresses my face comes through
the open window together with the scent of heliotropes, roses, and
mignonette. It is the enchanted land, where the orange blossoms, and
also an enchanted palace; because everything that millions can buy,
combined with the exquisite taste of Mrs. Davis, is to be found in
this villa. I am surrounded by masterworks of art,--statues, pictures,
matchless specimens of ceramics, chased works by Benvenuto. Eyes
feast on nature, feast on art, and do not know where to dwell
longest,--unless it be on the splendid pagan, the mistress of all
these splendors, and whose only religion is beauty.
But is it quite just to call her a pagan? because, I say again,
whether sincere or not, she shares my sorrows and tries to soothe
them. We talk for hours about my father, and I have often seen tears
in her eyes. Since she found out that music acts soothingly upon my
mind, she plays for hours, and often until late at night. Sometimes
I sit in my room in the dark, look absently at the sea riddled by a
silver network, and listen to the sounds of her music mingling with
the splashing of the waves. I listen until I feel half distracted,
half sleepy,--until in sleep I forget the real life, with all its
sorrows.