Sleep found me still wandering on a sea of thoughts, and
seeking no shore. When morning came, I was awaked by the rays of the
sun and by the murmur of the hot springs; and I would plunge into my
bath, and after breakfast recommence the same rambles and the same
melancholy musings as the day before. Sometimes in the evening, when I
looked out of my window into the garden, I saw another lighted window
not far from my own and the face of a female, who, with one hand
throwing back the long black tresses from her brow, gazed like myself
on the mountains, the sky, and moonlit garden. I could only distinguish
the pale, pure, and almost transparent profile and the long, dark waves
of the hair, which was smoothed down at the temples. I used to see this
face standing out on the brilliant background of the window, which was
lighted from a lamp in the bedroom. At times, too, I had heard a
woman's voice saying a few words or giving some orders in the
apartment. The slightly foreign, though pure accent, the vibrations of
that soft, languid, and yet marvellously sonorous voice, of which I
heard the harmony without understanding the words had interested me.
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