"Pardon me--I was forgetting."
"I know," affirmed Elaine happily.
"You know what?"
"That I shall have a fair measure of sight. The doctor tells me recovery
depends largely on the mental condition. I was worrying myself up till a
few days ago, but now I'm supremely happy. So I shall recover--I've
something to live for, you see!" Elaine reached for the vase by her side
and raised a spray of white lilac to breathe in its fragrance.
The happiness so evident on Elaine's lips stirred Olive uneasily.
"Then you've had good news from outside? I'm very glad to hear it," she
said.
"Good news? Why, yes, thanks to you! I want first to thank you for your
generosity. I was worrying so until I heard the news from John."
"From whom?"
"Your husband. You see, he will always be John Riviere to me. That's how
I knew him during these wonderful days at Arles and Nimes." Her voice
became dreamy with memories. "I met him first, you know, at the arena at
Arles. We sat for hours in the flooding sunlight reconstructing our
pictures of the past. The stone tiers were vivid orange in the sunlight
and deep purple in the shadows. A deep, greyish purple. We sat apart, I
longing for him to speak to me and exchange thoughts. But there was no
one to introduce us. How stupid convention is! At sunset we climbed up
to the topmost tier and stood together as though on an island tower in
the midst of a sea of marshland. I ached to speak to him, and still we
remained silent and apart.
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