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78 ARIADNE.world as we will, and none that keeps suchmemories.But for me,Isaw no loveliness then of cityor of citadel, hoary with years; of monastery,sheltered amidst snows and forest;of silent lakesleepingin the serenest folds of the hills.Ionlystrained my ear with the eager hearkeningof anyspent and hunted animal to hear the name ofRome.AtlastIheard it, when the night had fallen,though the moonwas not as yet upover the edgeof the eastern horizon.The great bells were booming heavily: somecardinalhad died.Gently, and without haste,Iled her by thehand through the old familiar ways, shrouded inshadows under the cold starless skies.My heart almost ceased to beat. Here wasmy last hope. If this had no spell torouse her,she would sleep in the dreams of madness forever;none would ever awaken her. She hadloved the stones and the soil of Rome with afilial devotion; Rome alone would perchancehave power to save her.