Standing on one side, arms akimbo, the benevolent giantess watched the consumption of the “restorative” soup, and which face was brighter, hers or the consumer’s, it would have been hard to say.
“STANDING ON ONE SIDE, ARMS AKIMBO”
CHAPTER VII
ZITLI
Honor did not sleep the first part of the night; her ankle was stiff and painful, and she was a little feverish. She had a vision, in the middle of the night, of Gretli, towering like an Alp beside her in a mammoth nightgown, holding a cup to her lips and murmuring, “Tisane! to make sleep well. Taste! but taste then, my child!”
Honor tasted, sipped, drank deep of the pleasant cooling draught, herbs and honey and whey mysteriously mingled; then sank back on the pillow. Was it really Gretli or a mountain? The Dent d’Oche, come to visit her and accept her homage? Why not? Hesperus came! Mountains—maidens—tisane—
The next thing Honor knew the morning sun was shining in on her: not directly in her face, but reflected through the open door in the little mirror opposite the foot of her bed. She sat up, blinking and rubbing her eyes.
“Where am I?” she said again, as she had said the day before; the next moment she knew, for there was Gretli in the doorway, beaming broad and bright as the sun itself. She carried a basin—a very small one—and a towel of homespun damask fit for a duchess.