CHAPTER VI

THE BROKEN TROTH Spring triumphed with a vaunting pageant in the park of Avellino, where the gravelled walks were snowy beneath the light of the higher risen moon, and were in shadows transmuted to dim, violet tints. The sombre foliage of yew and box and ilex contrasted strangely with the pale glow of the young grass, sloping in emerald tinted terraces down to where the lake shimmered through the trees. It was an enchanted spot, second only to the gardens of Castel Fiorentino, with their broad terraces and gleaming…