AT PORTICI.
Natalie slept far from soundly the first night after her arrival in
Naples; she was glad when the slow, anxious hours, with all their
bewildering uncertainties and forebodings, were over. She rose early,
and dressed quickly; she threw open the tall French windows to let in
the soft silken air from the sea; then she stepped out on the balcony to
marvel once more--she who knew Naples well enough--at the shining beauty
around her.
It was a morning to give courage to any one; the air was fresh and
sweet; she drank deep of the abundant gladness and brightness of the
world. The great plain of waters before her shimmered and sparkled in
millions of diamonds; with here and there long splashes of sunny green,
and here and there long splashes of purple where the sea-weed showed
through. The waves sprung white on the projecting walls of the Castello
dell' Ovo, and washed in on the shore with a soft continuous murmur; the
brown-sailed fishing-boats went by, showing black or red as they
happened to be in sunshine or shadow.
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