"So I turned my back upon my home, my face to the world. I was strong, energetic, full of life and spirit, though for the moment clouded and subdued. The Abbé had taken care that my mental powers should be thoroughly trained. For twelve years I had been his constant care. In many things he thought me his superior. Mathematics and classics, the sciences, these by his rare skill he had made my amusement. But my impulsive nature, quick sometimes to rashness, had not been conquered. He had only given me a certain amount of judgment and common-sense which must stand by me in moments of difficulty or danger. Altogether I was well-fitted to take care of myself, in spite of my love of adventure and quick temperament. You see that it clings to me still," added Delormais with a smile. "The old Adam dies hard within us. Who else would have treated you to a homily on black coffee and strong waters as I did this morning?
"I departed on my travels with no fixed purpose other than to see the world. To which point of the compass I turned, chance should decide."
Again Delormais paused as though absorbed in past recollections. For a moment his white, well-shaped hand shielded his eyes. Then returning to his former attitude, now gazing earnestly at us and now into space, he continued his narrative.
Rome--Count Albert--Happy months--Sweets of companionship--Egypt--Strange things--Quiet weeks--Sinai--Freedom of the desert--Crossing the Red Sea--Mount Serbal--Convent of St. Catherine--In the Valley of the Saint--Tomb of Sheikh Saleh--Pools of Solomon--Jerusalem the Golden--Bethel--Lebanon--Home again--Fresh scenes--Algeria--Hanging gardens of the Sahel--Mount Bubor and its glories--Rash act--At the twilight hour--Earthly paradise--Fair Eve--Fervent love--Arouya--Nature's revenge--Not to last--Eternal requiem of the sea--In the backwoods--Hunting wolves--Prairies of California--Honolulu--Active volcanoes--Lake of fire--Rare birds and wild flowers--Worship of Peleus--An eruption--Mighty upheaval--Coast of Labrador--Shooting bears.
"The first morning that I wakened up away from home I found myself in the Eternal City. I had always loved Rome. Here I thought I might lose myself in ancient history. In imagination I trod the palace of the Cæsars, and in the Coliseum beheld the martyred Christians. I pictured the gilded pageantries of the Tiber, the splendours of the pleasure-lost citizens. I saw the vast Campagna clothed with its armies, listened to the clash of arms and shouts of warriors ascending heavenwards. I walked the Appian Way with St. Paul and at the Three Taverns seemed to hear his voice in sorrowful farewell. At the shrine of Cecilia Metella I lingered in sympathetic communion; and from the Pincio Hill watched the sunsets of those matchless skies. Why are the skies of Rome more beautiful than any other? The Vatican opened its doors to me and the Pope gave me his most intimate and friendly benediction. I fear that I thought too lightly of the latter.