“I am your nurse,” said she, with a melancholy smile.
He sighed heavily. “Sleep now,” said she, and she again placed her hand upon his forehead. Her touch soothed him. Her voice arose in a low song of surpassing sweetness. His senses yielded to the subtle incantation, and sleep came to him as he lay.
When he awaked it was almost evening. Lethargy was still over him, and Beatrice made him sleep again. He slept into the next day. On waking there was the same absence of memory. She gave him some cordial to drink, and the draught revived him. Now he was far stronger, and he sat up, leaning against a tree, while Beatrice knelt near him. He looked at her long and earnestly.
“I would wish never to leave this place, but to stay here,” said he. “I know nothing of my past life. I have drunk of Lethe. Yet I can not help struggling to regain knowledge of that past.”
He put his hand in his bosom, as if feeling for some relic.
“I have something suspended about my neck,” said he, “which is precious. Perhaps I shall know what it is after a time.”
Then, after a pause, “Was there not a wreck?” he asked.
“Yes; and you saved my life.”
“Was there not a fight with pirates?”
“Yes; and you saved my life,” said Beatrice again.