"But what a pity it would be not to see Italy!" said her mother. "Think
of Naples and Rome and Venice."
"I don't want to think about them. It makes me feel as if I was studying
a great long geography lesson, and it tires me so to learn it."
"Amy, dear, you're not well."
"Yes, I am,--quite well; only I don't want to go away from Nice."
"You only have to learn a little bit at a time of your geography lesson,
you know," suggested Katy; "and it's a great deal nicer way to study it
than out of a book." But though she spoke cheerfully she was conscious
that she shared Amy's reluctance.
"It's all laziness," she told herself. "Nice has been so pleasant that
it has spoiled me."
It was a consolation and made going easier that they were to drive over
the famous Cornice Road as far as San Remo, instead of going to Genoa
by rail as most travellers now-a-days do. They departed from the
Pension Suisse early on an exquisite morning, fair and balmy as June,
but with a little zest and sparkle of coolness in the air which made it
additionally delightful. The Mediterranean was of the deepest
violet-blue; a sort of bloom of color seemed to lie upon it. The sky
was like an arch of turquoise; every cape and headland shone jewel-like
in the golden sunshine. The carriage, as it followed the windings of
the road cut shelf-like on the cliffs, seemed poised between earth and
heaven; the sea below, the mountain summits above, with a fairy world
of verdure between.
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