First lines
IN the Neapolitan palazetto, which was the residence of Victor Vane, the light of the summer morning made its way through half-closed blinds, the odours of orange and myrtle were heavy to oppression on the air, the waters beat a lulling measure below, at the foot of the little pier; it was still, soft, indolently charming, slumberously restful in the noontide hush; yet he himself-commonly so calm, so languid, so supreme an artist in the science of lazy pleasures -had no repose in it or in his own life.
IN the Neapolitan palazetto, which was the residence of Victor Vane, the light of the summer morning made its way through half-closed blinds, the odours of orange and myrtle were heavy to oppression on the air, the waters beat a lulling measure below, at the foot of the little pier; it was still, soft, indolently charming, slumberously restful in the noontide hush; yet he himself-commonly so calm,…
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First published 1867About the author
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