He lived in
the Latin convent, a fine building which he had almost to himself,
for there are not half a dozen monks. He used to pace up and down the
terrace which he had turned into a garden, and on which he kept all
sorts of strange animals. He wrote continually there. Indeed he did
nothing but write. His only relaxation was a daily ride to Piraeus,
about five miles over the plain; he told me it was the only time in
his life he was ever contented with himself except when he was at
Cherbury. He always spoke of London with disgust.'
'Plantagenet loves retirement and a quiet life,' said Venetia; 'but he
must not be marred with vulgar sights and common-place duties. That is
the secret with him.'
'I think the wind has just changed,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'It seems
to me that we shall have a sirocco. There, it shifts again! We shall
have a sirocco for certain.'
'What did you think of papa when you first saw him?' said Venetia.
'Was he the kind of person you expected to see?'
'Exactly,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'So very spiritual! Plantagenet said
to me, as we went home the first night, that he looked like a golden
phantom. I think him very like you, Venetia; indeed, there can be no
doubt you inherited your face from your father.
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