When Hermione woke it was four o'clock. She sat up on the rug, looked
down over the mountain flank to the sea, then turned and saw her husband.
He was lying with his face half buried in his folded arms.
"Maurice!" she said, softly.
"Yes," he answered, lifting his face.
"Then you weren't asleep!"
"No."
"Have you been asleep?"
"No."
She looked at her watch.
"All this time! It's four. What a disgraceful siesta! But I was really
tired after the long journey and the night."
She stood up. He followed her example and threw the rug over his arm.
"Emile will think we've deserted him and aren't going to give him any
tea."
"Yes."
They began to walk up the track towards the terrace.
"Maurice," Hermione said, presently, more thoroughly wide-awake now. "Did
you get up while I was asleep? Did you begin to move away from me, and
did I stop you, or was it a dream? I have a kind of vague
recollection--or is it only imagination?--of stretching out my hand and
saying, 'Don't leave me alone--don't leave me alone!'"
"I moved a little," he answered, after a slight pause.
"And you did stretch out your hand and murmur something."
"It was that--'don't leave me alone.'"
"Perhaps. I couldn't hear. It was such a murmur."
"And you only moved a little? How stupid of me to think you were getting
up to go away!"
"When one is half asleep one has odd ideas often."
He did not tell her that he had been getting up softly, hoping to steal
away to the mountain-top and destroy the fragments of her letter, hidden
there, while she slept.
"You won't mind," he added, "if I go down to bathe this evening. I
sha'n't sleep properly to-night unless I do."
"Of course--go. But won't it be rather late after tea?"
"Oh no. I've often been in at sunset."
"How delicious the water must look then! Maurice!"
"Yes?"
"Shall I come with you? Shall I bathe, too? It would be lovely,
refreshing, after this heat! It would wash away all the dust of the
train!"
Her face was glowing with the anticipation of pleasure. Every little
thing done with him was an enchantment after the weeks of separation.
"Oh, I don't think you'd better, Hermione," he answered, hastily.
"I--you--there might be people. I--I must rig you up something first, a
tent of some kind. Gaspare and I will do it. I can't have my wife--"