In the daytime, there is hardly a livelier scene in Rome than the
neighborhood of the Fountain of Trevi; for the piazza is then filled
with the stalls of vegetable and fruit dealers, chestnut roasters,
cigar venders, and other people, whose petty and wandering traffic
is transacted in the open air. It is likewise thronged with idlers,
lounging over the iron railing, and with Forestieri, who came hither to
see the famous fountain. Here, also, are seen men with buckets, urchins
with cans, and maidens (a picture as old as the patriarchal times)
bearing their pitchers upon their heads. For the water of Trevi is in
request, far and wide, as the most refreshing draught for feverish lips,
the pleasantest to mingle with wine, and the wholesomest to drink,
in its native purity, that can anywhere be found. But now, at early
midnight, the piazza was a solitude; and it was a delight to behold this
untamable water, sporting by itself in the moonshine, and compelling
all the elaborate trivialities of art to assume a natural aspect, in
accordance with its own powerful simplicity.
"What would be done with this water power," suggested an artist, "if we
had it in one of our American cities? Would they employ it to turn the
machinery of a cotton mill, I wonder?"
"The good people would pull down those rampant marble deities," said
Kenyon, "and, possibly, they would give me a commission to carve the
one-and-thirty (is that the number?) sister States, each pouring a
silver stream from a separate can into one vast basin, which should
represent the grand reservoir of national prosperity."
"Or, if they wanted a bit of satire," remarked an English artist, "you
could set those same one-and-thirty States to cleansing the national
flag of any stains that it may have incurred. The Roman washerwomen at
the lavatory yonder, plying their labor in the open air, would serve
admirably as models."
"I have often intended to visit this fountain by moonlight,", said
Miriam, "because it was here that the interview took place between
Corinne and Lord Neville, after their separation and temporary
estrangement. Pray come behind me, one of you, and let me try whether
the face can be recognized in the water."
Leaning over the stone brim of the basin, she heard footsteps stealing
behind her, and knew that somebody was looking over her shoulder. The
moonshine fell directly behind Miriam, illuminating the palace front and
the whole scene of statues and rocks, and filling the basin, as it were,
with tremulous and palpable light. Corinne, it will be remembered, knew
Lord Neville by the reflection of his face in the water. In Miriam's
case, however (owing to the agitation of the water, its transparency,
and the angle at which she was compelled to lean over), no reflected
image appeared; nor, from the same causes, would it have been possible
for the recognition between Corinne and her lover to take place. The
moon, indeed, flung Miriam's shadow at the bottom of the basin, as well
as two more shadows of persons who had followed her, on either side.