But on the other hand, pleasure, in this case, was quite at one with effort; evidently the greatest bliss in life, for Roderick, would have been to have a plastic idea.

And then, it was impossible not to feel tenderly to a despair which had so ceased to be aggressive--not to forgive a great deal of apathy to a temper which had so unlearned its irritability.

Roderick said frankly that Switzerland made him less miserable than Italy, and the Alps seemed less to mock at his enforced leisure than the Apennines.

He indulged in long rambles, generally alone, and was very fond of climbing into dizzy places, where no sound could overtake him, and there, flinging himself on the never-trodden moss, of pulling his hat over his eyes and lounging away the hours in perfect immobility.

Rowland sometimes walked with him; though Roderick never invited him, he seemed duly grateful for his society.