The bright rays of the sun were broken up by the pines, standing close together as if in familiar conversation, that partly kept them away from a broad Japanese umbrella on which gay figures were depicted in sharp, unusual colours.Ī female figure was reclining in a straw lounge-chair in the shade of the umbrella, comfortably nestling her graceful form in the resilient wickerwork.
The morning heat was beating down on the sleeping house from which a narrow gravel path ran like a white line to a cool vantage point below which the waves were rumbling in wild, unceasing assaults, here and there throwing up shimmering drops of water that sparkled in the glaring sunlight like rainbow-coloured diamonds. The sea, in which far off in the distance white flashes of glimmering sails of isolated ships could only occasionally be seen, was caressing with the agile flow of its waves the bottom of the stepped terrace over which the villa rose, extending ever deeper into the greenery of a vast, shadowy garden and losing itself in the calmness of a fairy-tale park. Everything was shimmering in sharp, delineated contours and had become a luminous mosaic sunk into the deep blue azure of the sky: the sun-dappled horizon, the hills on which dainty houses gleamed like white pearls, a lighthouse miles away that rose up steeply into the sky like a candle.
The richness of the salty sea air permeated the calm, dusky rows of pines a light, steady breeze was playing about the orange trees and here and there was plucking off a colourful blossom, as if with careful fingers.
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