Heard was not quite satisfied about him. Perhaps he was only feigning.
Time passed. Do what he would to keep awake, the bishop felt his
eyelids drooping--closing under the deluge of light. Once more there
approached him that spirit of malevolence brooding in the tense sunny
calm, that baleful emanation which seemed to drain away his powers of
will. It laid a weight upon him. He felt into an unquiet slumber.
Presently he woke up and turned sharply to look at his companion. Denis
had not stirred an inch from his voluptuous pose. A queer boy. Was he
up to some mystification?
The landscape all around was scarred and deserted. How silent a place
can be, he thought. An unhealthy hush. And what a heat! The lava
blocks--they seemed to smoulder and reel in the fiery glare. It was a
deathly world. It reminded him of those illustrations to Dante's
INFERNO. He thought to see the figures of the damned writhing amid
tongues of flame.
His glance fell once more upon the villa of his cousin. Strange! There
were two persons, now, walking along the edge of the cliff.
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