Lamberti experienced nothing of that sort at present. He was overwhelmed and carried away out of the region of normal thought and volition towards something which he somehow knew was at hand, which he was sure he had reached before, but which he could not distinctly remember. Between it and him in the past there was a wall of darkness; between him and it in the future there was a veil not yet lifted, but on which his dreams already cast strange and beautiful shadows.
"I used to see things in the water," Cecilia said softly, "things that were going to happen. That was long, long ago."
"I remember," said Lamberti, quite naturally. "You told me once—"
He stopped. It was gone back behind the wall of darkness. When he had begun to speak, quite unconsciously, he had known what it was that Cecilia had told him, but he had forgotten it all now. He passed his hand over his forehead, and suddenly everything changed, and he came back out of an immeasurable distance to real life.
"I shall be going away in a few days," he said. "May I see you before I go?"
"Certainly. Come and see us about three o'clock. We are always at home then."
"Thank you."
They turned from the fountain while they spoke, and walked slowly towards the house.
"Does your mother know about your dreaming?" Lamberti asked.
"No. No one knows. And you?"