"
The Brothers of Saint Gregory had, with tool and hammer, made the most
of the ruins remaining; and here some twenty lived, sheltering the
weary traveller. Our friends were almost close to the ruin ere
observing it, it being hidden partly by a magnificent belt of pine,
partly by a freak of nature, in shape of huge upheavals of rock,
thrown up as it were from the earth's bowels, and in the clefts of
which rocks, beautiful moss, hardy trailing plants, and ferns grew
luxuriantly. Here the Brothers had built a tiny chapel, one side and
part of roof being formed of these rocks, the other side, remainder of
roof, and western entrance, were of stone and marble. The eastern end
of beautiful specimens of Italian marble, the altar of pure white, its
many coloured background throwing it out in all its purity; seats of
rude stone; the floor strewn with sweet scented leaves and twigs,
sending up when crushed by one's foot, a sweet odour as of incense. On
our travellers nearing, a magnificent voice full of melody, fell upon
the air.
"What a grand singer!" exclaimed Vaura, as they with one consent,
deserted the carriage.
Pages:
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276