Gradiva crossed the stepping-stones with her calm buoyancy, and now,
turning her back, walked along on the opposite sidewalk; her destination
seemed to be the house of Adonis. Before it she stopped a moment, too,
but passed then, as if after further deliberation, down farther through
the Strada di Mercurio. On the left, of the more elegant buildings,
there now stood only the Casa di Apollo, named after the numerous
representations of Apollo excavated there, and, to the man who was
gazing after her, it seemed again that she had also surely chosen the
portico of the Temple of Apollo for her death sleep. Probably she was
closely associated with the cult of the sun-god and was going there.
Soon, however, she stopped again; stepping-stones crossed the street
here, too, and she walked back again to the right side. Thus she turned
the other side of her face toward him and looked a little different, for
her left hand, which held up her gown, was not visible and instead of
her curved arm, the right one hung down straight. At a greater distance
now, however, the golden waves of sunlight floated around her with a
thicker web of veiling, and did not allow him to distinguish where she
had stopped, for she disappeared suddenly before the house of Meleager.
Norbert Hanold still stood without having moved a limb. With his eyes,
and this time with his corporeal ones, he had surveyed, step by step,
her vanishing form. Now, at length, he drew a deep breath, for his
breast too had remained almost motionless.
Simultaneously the sixth sense, suppressing the others completely, held
him absolutely in its sway. Had what had just stood before him been a
product of his imagination or a reality?
He did not know that, nor whether he was awake or dreaming, and tried in
vain to collect his thoughts. Then, however, a strange shudder passed
down his spine. He saw and heard nothing, yet he felt from the secret
inner vibrations that Pompeii had begun to live about him in the noonday
hour of spirits, and so Gradiva lived again, too, and had gone into the
house which she had occupied before the fateful August day of the year
79.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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