Dion, in his pyjamas, was outside fastening back the flap, his bare feet on the short dry grass.
“I can see the Pleiades!” she added earnestly.
“There!” said Dion.
He looked up at the sky.
“The Pleiades, the Great Bear, Mars.”
“Oh!” she drew in her breath. “A shooting star!”
She pressed her lips together and half-shut her eyes. By her contracted forehead Dion saw that she was wishing almost fiercely. He believed he read her wish. He had not seen the traveling star, and did not try to wish with her, lest he should cross the path of the Fates and throw his shadow on her desire.
He came softly into the tent which was full of the whiteness of the moon. Sleeping thus with Rosamund in the bosom of nature was very wonderful to him. It was like a sort of re-marriage. The moon and the stars looking in made his relation to her quite new and more beautiful.
“I shall never forget Olympia,” he whispered, leaning over her.
He kissed her very gently, not with any passion. He had the feeling that she would almost resent passion just then.