Their eyes met, flashed in a smile, and fell away again as though desirous of husbanding the impression.
“You are looking thin,” suggested the woman.
“Nonsense!”
“Don’t contradict me.”
“I have been sleeping badly,” said the soldier; “and, upon my soul, I have half-starved myself.”
“We must take care of you here.”
He laughed a deep quaver of sentiment.
“That hair of yours would flash heaven into any man’s heart,” he said.
They walked on a burnished stretch of sand, for the tide was low and the waves mere ripples. The sea was like a garment of many colors, ribbed with iridescent hues from cloud and sky. The cliffs rose like walls of ivory fringed with emerald silk, and the pines on the hills were webbed with a purple mist.
“Italian weather,” said the soldier, turning down the brim of his hat; “it is not often we get such a day in this damned climate. You know Italy?”