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“It is no good thinking it over, my holiday is at
an end, this very night I have to return to my
every day’s toil far away from this beautiful land.
Besides I am no good at thinking. I accept the
bargain, I will pay the price, be it what it may.
But how am I to buy this house, my hands are
empty.”
“Your hands are empty but they are strong,
your brain is boisterous but clear, your will is
sound, you will succeed.”
“How am I to build my house? I know
nothing about architecture.”
“I will help you. What style do you want?
Why not Gothic? I rather like the Gothic with
its subdued light and its haunting mystery.”
“I am going to invent a style of my own, such
that not even you shall be able to give it a name.
No mediaeval twilight for me! I want my house
open to sun and wind and the voice of the sea, like
a Greek temple, and light, light, light
everywhere!”
“Beware of the light! Beware of the light!
Too much light is not good for the eyes of mortal
man.”
“I want columns of priceless marble,
supporting loggias and arcades, beautiful fragments from
past ages strewn all over my garden, the chapel
turned into a silent library with cloister stalls
round the walls and sweet sounding bells ringing
Ave Maria over each happy day.”
“I do not like bells.”
“And here where we stand with this beautiful
island rising like a sphinx out of the sea below our
feet, here I want a granite sphinx from the land
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