the time only one head. She tried to raise her
hands and cover her eyes, but could not--and woke with a sob. . . . It
was light.

Nearly six o'clock already! Her dream made her disinclined to trust
again to sleep. Sleep was a robber now--of each minute of these few
days! She got up, and looked out. The morning was fine, the air warm
already, sweet with dew, and heliotrope nailed to the wall outside her
window. She had but to open her shutters and walk into the sun. She
dressed, took her sunshade, stealthily slipped the shutters back, and
stole forth. Shunning the hotel garden, where the eccentricity of her
early wandering might betray the condition of her spirit, she passed
through into the road toward the Casino. Without perhaps knowing it, she
was making for where she had sat with him yesterday afternoon, listening
to the band. Hatless, but defended by her sunshade, she excited the
admiration of the few connoisseurs as yet abroad, strolling in blue
blouses to their labours; and this simple admiration gave her pleasure.
For once she was really conscious of the grace in her own limbs, actually
felt the gentle vividness of her own face, with its nearly black hair and
eyes, and creamy skin--strange sensation, and very comforting!

In the Casino gardens she walked more slowly, savouring the aromatic
trees, and stopping to bend and look at almost every flower; then, on the
seat, where she had sat with him yesterday, she rested. A few paces away
were the steps that led to the railway-station, trodden upwards eagerly
by so many, day after day, night after night, and lightly or sorrowfully
descended. Above her, two pines, a pepper-tree, and a palm mingled their
shade--so fantastic the jumbling of trees and souls in this strange
place! She furled her sunshade and leaned back. Her gaze, free and
friendly, passed from bough to bough. Against the bright sky, unbesieged
as yet by heat or dust, they had a spiritual look, lying sharp and flat
along the air. She plucked a cluster of pinkish berries from the
pepper-tree, crushing and rubbing them between her hands to get their
fragrance. All these beautiful and sweet things seemed to be a part of
her joy at being loved, part of this sudden summer in her heart. The
sky, the flowers, that jewel of green-blue sea, the bright acacias, were
nothing in the world but love.

And those few who passed, and saw her sitting there under the
pepper-tree, wondered no doubt at the