On his delicate mission, the young man set forth without
delay. To Cumae, whether by sea or land, was but a short journey:
starting at daybreak, Basil might have given ample time to his
embassy, and have been back again early on the morrow. But the
second day passed, and he did not return. Though harassed by the
delay, Maximus tried to deem it of good omen, and nursed his hope
through another sleepless night.
Soon after sunrise, he was carried forth to his place of
observation, a portico in semicircle, the marble honey-toned by
time, which afforded shelter from the eastern rays and commanded a
view of vast extent. Below him lay the little town, built on the
cliffs above its landing-place; the hillsides on either hand were
clad with vineyards, splendid in the purple of autumn, and with
olives. Sky and sea shone to each other in perfect calm; the softly
breathing air mingled its morning freshness with a scent of fallen
flower and leaf. A rosy vapour from Vesuvius floated gently inland;
and this the eye of Maximus marked with contentment, as it signified
a favourable wind for a boat crossing hither from the far side of
the bay.
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