At her question he dismissed all thought of jealousy. Looking into her clear, half-laughing eyes, he read of no entangling alliances; without words from her, he understood.
“Shall we go into the garden?” she said, and, opening the window, they stepped out upon the veranda.
In the sky a single large cloud stretched itself in a dreamy torpor, too sluggish, apparently to move, 498 while a brood of little clouds nestled and slept around it. From the window, the count’s ally watched them, among the plants and vines, pausing now and then; their interest more in themselves than in the liveliest hues or forms that nature offered. He stood still, regarding his shadow on the path seriously.
“Nearly noon by the soldier’s dial!” he said.
She pushed back the hair the wind had blown about her brow.
“My boat sails in an hour,” he continued.
“But––you are not––going––now?”
“If I stay, it must be––”
“Forever!” she said. “Forever!”