Amanda and he had been warned of the
impossibility of decent travel beyond Cattaro and Cettinje but this
had but whetted her adventurousness and challenged his spirit. They
were going to see Albania for themselves.
The three months of honeymoon they had been spending together had
developed many remarkable divergences of their minds that had not
been in the least apparent to Benham before their marriage. Then
their common resolve to be as spirited as possible had obliterated
all minor considerations. But that was the limit of their
unanimity. Amanda loved wild and picturesque things, and Benham
strong and clear things; the vines and brushwood amidst the ruins of
Salona that had delighted her had filled him with a sense of tragic
retrogression. Salona had revived again in the acutest form a
dispute that had been smouldering between them throughout a fitful
and lengthy exploration of north and central Italy. She could not
understand his disgust with the mediaeval colour and confusion that
had swamped the pride and state of the Roman empire, and he could
not make her feel the ambition of the ruler, the essential
discipline and responsibilities of his aristocratic idea.
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