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and something hollow in her voice, bore witness that not tranquillity, but
excess of excitement, occasioned the treacherous calm that settled on her
countenance. I asked her where he should be buried. She replied, "At
Athens; even at the Athens which he loved. Without the town, on the
acclivity of Hymettus, there is a rocky recess which he pointed out to me
as the spot where he would wish to repose."
My own desire certainly was that he should not be removed from the spot
where he now lay. But her wish was of course to be complied with; and I
entreated her to prepare without delay for our departure.
Behold now the melancholy train cross the flats of Thrace, and wind through
the defiles, and over the mountains of Macedonia, coast the clear waves of
the Peneus, cross the Larissean plain, pass the straits of Thermopylae, and
ascending in succession Oeta and Parnassus, descend to the fertile plain of
Athens. Women bear with resignation these long drawn ills, but to a man's
impatient spirit, the slow motion of our cavalcade, the melancholy repose
we took at noon, the perpetual presence of the pall, gorgeous though it
was, that wrapt the rifled casket which had contained Raymond, the
monotonous recurrence of day and night, unvaried by hope or change, all the
circumstances of our march were intolerable. Perdita, shut up in herself,
spoke little. Her carriage was closed; and, when we rested, she sat leaning
her pale cheek on her white cold hand, with eyes fixed on the ground,
indulging thoughts which refused communication or sympathy.
We descended from Parnassus, emerging from its many folds, and passed
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