He was growing tender over her, dangerously so. The temptation came to him to stay. He bent over and brushed her forehead, of which he could feel the sweet warmth with his lips. She smiled vaguely, keeping her eyes closed. He left her there and went out. In the corridor of the hotel he met only a waiter, who yawned as he polished the floors, and paid no attention to Maurice’s appearance. A hand-bag was all the baggage he carried, an overcoat and a cane. The shortest road to the railway station at Orta leads across the Sacred Mountain. The moonlight, which was growing pale before the threats of day, penetrated in fear and mystery through the half-leafless woods. Between the tall trunks of the pines and larches its beams fell upon the dead leaves that strewed the ground, and rested on the façades of the little chapels. When Maurice reached a point opposite the fifteenth chapel he raised his head and stopped. The slender columns stood out quite white, one or another of them throwing its reflection in a black shadow against the wall. He mounted the steps and turned to take in the familiar landscape with a last glance. The well-curbs and the clear outlines of some of the sanctuaries rose round him like apparitions. He could see opposite him the dark mountains, and portions of the lake on either side the hill. Even at this distance he could no longer see the Belvedere Hotel, which was hidden by the hillside, though it was just this that he was looking for. These stones he trod on, these trees and chapels, all these vague outlines which the sun would presently restore in their full values, he would bear away with him in his memory. So long as he should have the power to remember them he should see them all in his mind’s eye, not for their own particular grace, but subordinated as scenes and accessories for one principal figure. Even at a distance, this chief figure, this unique flower of his youth, still exerted its fascination over him. Instead of fleeing from it, fleeing without a backward look, he stood motionless in this place that Edith had so loved, where she had longed to be with her roses in her hands, the evening of their anniversary, that last day of their happiness.