Lago di Nemi, with its fabled
fleet at the bottom.

The Chigi woods, that fill the deep ravine under the great viaduct at
Ariccia, were in the most brilliant emerald green. Past these forests
lay the vast stretch of the Pontine Marshes; and turning toward Rome
again, the splendor of the sunset flamed in the sky. One could but
recall Mrs. Humphry Ward's vivid picture of a storm seen over this part
of the Campagna:--

"The sunset was rushing to its height through every possible phase
of violence and splendor. From the Mediterranean, storm clouds were
rising fast to the assault and conquest of the upper sky, which
still above the hills shone blue and tranquil. But the northwest
wind and the sea were leagued against it. They sent out threatening
fingers and long spinning veils of cloud across it--skirmishers
that foretold the black and serried lines, the torn and monstrous
masses behind. Below these wild tempest shapes again--in long
spaces resting on the sea--the heaven was at peace, shining in
delicate greens and yellows, infinitely translucent and serene,
above the dazzling lines of water. Over Rome itself there was a
strange massing and curving of the clouds. Between their blackness
and the deep purple of the Campagna rose the city--pale
phantom--upholding one great dome, and one only, to view of night
and the world. Round and above and behind, beneath the long flat
arch of the storm, glowed a furnace of scarlet light. The buildings
of the city were faint specks within its fierce intensity, dimly
visible through a sea of fire. St. Peter's alone, without visible
foundation or support, had consistence, form, identity; and between
the city and the hills, waves of blue and purple shade, forerunners
of the night, stole over the Campagna towards the higher ground.
But the hills themselves were still shining, still clad in rose and
amethyst, caught in gentler repetition from the wildness of the
west. Pale rose even the olive gardens; rose the rich brown
fallows, the emerging farms; while drawn across the Campagna from
north to south, as though some mighty brush had just laid it there
for sheer lust of color, sheer joy in the mating it with the
rose,--one long strip of sharpest, purest green."

The Villa Falconieri, in Frascati, which was built by Cardinal Ruffini,
with the old ilex tre