My Friend Prospero

  III

  And now, I should have imagined, for a single session, (and that aninitial one), he had had enough. I should have expected him to spend theremainder of his day, a full man, in thankful tranquillity, in agreeableretrospective rumination. But no. Indulgence, it soon appeared, had butwhetted his appetite. After a quarter-hour of walking about the garden,during which his jumble of sensations and impressions,--her soft-glowingeyes, her soft-drooping hair, under her wine-red hat; her slenderfigure, in its fluttering summery muslin, and the faint, faint perfume(like a far-away memory of rose-leaves) that hovered near her; hersmile, and the curves, when she smiled, of her rose-red lips, and thegleam of her snow-white teeth; her laugh, her voice, her ivory voice;her pretty crisp-cut English; her appreciation of Annunziata, herdisquieting presentiments concerning her; and his deep satisfaction inher propinquity, her "companionship;" and the long shaded fragrantavenue, and the bird-songs, and the gentle weather,--after aquarter-hour of anything but thankful tranquillity, a quarter-hour ofunaccountable excitement and exaltation, during which his jumble ofimpressions and sensations settled themselves, from ebullition, intosome sort of quiescence, he began to grow restlessly aware that, so farfrom having had enough, he had had just a sufficient taste to make himhunger keenly for more and more. It was ridiculous, but he couldn't helpit. And as there seemed no manner of likelihood that his hunger wouldsoon be fed, it was trying. At the best, he could not reasonably hope tosee her again before to-morrow; and even then--? What ghost of a reasonhad he to hope that even then he could renew their conversation? He hadowed that to-day to the bare hazard of their ways lying together.To-morrow, very likely, at the best, he might get a bow and a smile.Very likely it might be days before he should again have anythingapproaching a real talk with her. And what--a new consideration, thatstruck a sudden terror to his soul--what if her visit to Frau Brandtwas to be a short one? What if to-morrow even, she were to depart? "Hervery ease in talking with me, a stranger, may quite well have been dueto the fact that she knew she would never see me again," he argued. ...So he was working himself into a fine state of despondency, and theworld was rapidly being resolved into dust and ashes, when Heaven senthim a diversion. Nay, indeed, Heaven sent him two diversions.