Around her towered an amphitheatre of vast cliffs in which the sea sang loud music to the spirit of solitude.

In the moaning waters in front of the cove a jagged rock rose from the incomparable green, tilted backward and fantastically shaped, like a great grave face watching the house on the summit of the cliff.
The rock had fascinated the girl from the first moment she had seen it.

In the summer months, tourists came from afar to gaze on its fancied resemblance to one of the illustrious dead.

But to Sisily there was a secret brooding consciousness in the dark mask.

It seemed to her to be watching and waiting for something.