And the two made their libations to the gods, with an unmixed drink in which not a drop of water cut the jeweled transparency of the precious wine.
A group of singers and dancers now invaded the terrace.

A coppery-hued girl, handsome and dirty, with wavy hair, great gold hoops in her ears and an apron of many colored stripes, was dancing under the arbor, waving on high a tambourine that was almost the size of a parasol.

Two bow-legged youngsters, dressed like ancient lazzarones in red caps, were accompanying with shouts the agitated dance of the _tarantella_.
The gulf was taking on a pinkish light under the oblique rays of the sun, as though there were growing within it immense groves of coral.
The blue of the sky had also turned rosy and the mountain seemed aflame in the afterglow.

The plume of Vesuvius was less white than in the morning; its nebulous column, streaked with reddish flutings by the dying light, appeared to be reflecting its interior fire.
Ulysses felt the friendly placidity that a landscape contemplated in childhood always inspires.

Many a time he had seen this same panorama with its dancing girls and its volcano there in his old home at Valencia; he had seen it on the fans called "Roman Style" that his father used to collect.
Freya felt as moved as her companion.