(Yes, the mountains, the glorious mountains!  There they were—­before, behind, in front; range upon range—­peak upon peak, like breakers on a restless sea!  Mountains of every shade, of every shape, of every height.  Already their mighty tops were flecked with the glow of the western sunbeams; already pink and purple mists had gathered upon their sides, filling the valleys with mystery!)

“There,” said the count, pointing in the direction of the winding river Serchio, “is La Panga, the loftiest Apennine in Central Italy.  The peaked summits of those other mountains more to the right are the marble-bosomed range of Carrara.  One might believe them at this time covered with a mantle of snow, but for the ardent sun, the deep green of the belting plains, and the luxuriance of the forests.  Yonder steep chestnut-clothed height that terminates the valley opening before us is Bargilio, a mountain fortress of the Panciatici over the Baths of Lucca.”

Marescotti paused to take breath.  Enrica’s eyes languidly followed the direction of his hand.  The cavaliere, standing on his other side, was adjusting his spectacles, the better to distinguish the distance.

“To the south,” continued the count, pointing with his finger—­“in the centre of that rich vine-trellised Campagna, lies Pescia, a garden of luscious fruits.  Beyond, nestling in the hollows of the Apennines, shutting in the plain of that side, is ancient Lombard-walled Pistoja—­the key to the passes of Northern Italy.  Farther on, nearer Florence, rise the heights of Monte Catni, crowned as with a diadem by a small burgh untouched since the middle ages.  Nearer at hand, glittering like steel in the sunshine, is the lake of Bientina.  You can see its low, marshy shores fringed by beauteous woodlands, but without a single dwelling.”

Enrica, in a fit of abstraction, leaned over the parapet.  Her eyes were riveted upon the city beneath.  Marescotti followed her eyes.

“Yes,” said he, “there is Lucca;” and as he spoke he glanced inquiringly at her, and the tones of his clear, melodious voice grew soft and tender.  “Lucca the Industrious, bound within her line of ancient walls and fortifications.  Great names and great deeds are connected with Lucca.  Here, tradition says, Julius Caesar ruled as proconsul.  How often may the sandals of his feet have trod these narrow streets—­his purple robes swept the dust of our piazza!  Here he may have officiated as high-priest at our altars—­dictated laws from our palaces!  It was after the conquest of the Nervii (most savage among the Gaulish tribes) that Julius Caesar is said to have first come to Lucca.  Pompey and Crassus met him here.  It was at this time that Domitius—­Caesar’s enemy, then a candidate for the consulship—­boasted that he would ruin him.  But Caesar, seizing the opportune moment of his recent victories over the Gauls, and his meeting with Pompey—­formed the bold plan of grasping universal power by means of