Excerpt from Fiammetta: A Summer Idyl

The last days of June had come and gone in Borne, and July, still, hot, and breathless, spread its cloudless sky over the city. In the villas and under the dark-green ilexes nightingales were still pouring forth their songs of woe; larks, far up in the sky, drowned in its light, filled the air of the Campagna with a continuous ripple of far fine warblings. The silent stone-pines poised their spreading green canopies in the hot sunshine, and cast their shadow on the burnt grass. Flocks of goats crept under the shade of the lush hedges, or the lower hollows. The great gray oxen, tormented by flies, plunged into the watercourses and lashed their sides in vain to drive away those pertinacious pests.

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