However, the courageous explorer who persisted in following the ancient,
overgrown alley, and was not to be daunted by formidable briers that
tore his hands and clothing, nor low-hanging, closely interlaced
branches that struck him smart blows in the face as he forced his
way through them, would have reached at last a sort of rocky niche,
fancifully arranged as a grotto. Besides the masses of ivy, iris and
gladiolus, that had been carefully planted long ago in the interstices
of the rock, it was draped with a profusion of graceful wild vines and
feathery ferns, which half-veiled the marble statue, representing some
mythological divinity, that still stood in this lonely retreat. It must
have been intended for Flora or Pomona, but now there were tufts of
repulsive, venomous-looking mushrooms in the pretty, graceful, little
basket on her arm, instead of the sculptured fruit or flowers that
should have filled it. Although her nose was broken, and her fair body
disfigured by many dark stains, and overgrown in part with clinging
mosses, it could still plainly be seen that she had once been very
lovely. At her feet was a marble basin, shaped like a shell, half full
of discoloured, stagnant water; the lion's head just above it, now
almost entirely concealed by a thick curtain of leaves, no longer poured
forth the sparkling stream that used to fall into it with a musical
murmur.
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