It was a pleasant spot,-- cool and shady even at
noon, and the running water always full of music. Ramona often
knelt there of a morning, washing out a bit of lace or a
handkerchief; and when Alessandro saw her, it went hard with him
to stay away. At such moments the vision returned to him vividly
of that first night when, for the first second, seeing her face in the
sunset glow, he had thought her scarce mortal. It was not that he
even now thought her less a saint; but ah, how well he knew her to
be human! He had gone alone in the dark to this spot many a time,
and, lying on the grass, put his hands into the running water, and
played with it dreamily, thinking, in his poetic Indian fashion,
thoughts like these: "Whither have gone the drops that passed
beneath her hands, just here? These drops will never find those in
the sea; but I love this water!"
Margarita had seen him thus lying, and without dreaming of the
refined sentiment which prompted his action, had yet groped
blindly towards it, thinking to herself: "He hopes his Senorita will
come down to him there.
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