The green painted window-shutter was unfastened, and it swung open in the little wind that had sprung up. Jean saw the morning star shining, and the widening rift of pale gold in the grey sky above the hills. He heard the stirring of awakened life. Birds fluttered in the laurels. A boy was singing as he went to his work among the vines by the lake side:
“Ho da dirti tante cose.”
It seemed to Jean that he too had many things to say to the woman he loved. He called to her faintly, in a weak, hoarse voice: “Olive!”
After a while he heard her answering him from the next room.
“Jean! Oh, Jean!”
He lay still, smiling.
EDINBURGH
COLSTON AND CO. LIMITED
PRINTERS
THE BLUE LAGOON
By H. DE VERE STACPOOLE,