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ARIADNE. 153She stayed aU the summerin Rome.One day a thought struck me. It was earlyinthe morning, and the heaviness of the weatherhad lifted a httle, a few showers having fallen,andit was just so golden and white and sunny amorning as that whenIhad fallen asleep beforethe Ariadne in Borghese, with rosy mists uponthe mountain heights, and breadths of amberlight upon the river, and tender little cloudsthat flew before the breeze and promised rain atsunset.A thought struck me, andIallured her intothe openair while yetit was very early, and benther steps — she not heeding whither she went —across the Tiber to the Scala Regia of theAratican." Come hither with me;Ihavebusiness here,"Isaid to her; and she came, not hearing at allmost probably, for her mind was almost alwaysplunged so deeplyinto the memories of her deadjoy that it was easy to guide her where onewould.SometimesIfancied she had not wholly yetaU clearness of her reason; but thereIwas