Again:
"Shall I see you this evening, Lilian?"
"Yes, of course."
"And to-morrow?"
"To-morrow, too."
"Always, then, Lilian? Always?"
"Always."
Theirs was a sweetness even too intense, and a languor even more overwhelming; while Lilian's eyes of periwinkle-blue were far-away, and a little trembling Lucio's lips. A dull grating on the ground and a rush of water where the boat had grounded at Sils: rising, they again repeated the grand word, as if in a dream.
"Always! Always!"
They went through the meadows of thick grass, along the narrow canal that unites, as it cuts a long strip of earth, the large lake of Sils with the smaller lake of Silvaplana; they walked like somnambulists immersed in a dream of fervid youth and palpitating exhilaration; they went hand in hand with rapid steps to join the two ladies who were waiting for them up there beyond the bridge; towards the large, green wood before the charming, bright houses of Sils Maria, houses all adorned with galleries, balconies, and little windows. They went with steps ever more rapid, because the very pale sun was setting in too clear a sky, and for the first time they observed with distracted and wandering eyes the pallor of sun and sky.