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very minute and clear, but to the westward they were little boats
of gold--shining gold--almost like little flames. And just below
us was a rock with an arch worn through it. The blue sea-water
broke to green and foam all round the rock, and a galley came
gliding out of the arch."
"I know that rock." I said. "I was nearly drowned there. It
is called the Faraglioni."
"I Faraglioni? Yes, she called it that," answered the man
with the white face. "There was some story--but that--"
He put his hand to his forehead again. "No," he said, "I
forget that story."
"
Well, that is the first thing I remember, the first dream I
had, that little shaded room and the beautiful air and sky and that
dear lady of mine, with her shining arms and her graceful robe, and
how we sat and talked in half whispers to one another. We talked
in whispers not because there was any one to hear, but because
there was still such a freshness of mind between us that our
thoughts were a little frightened, I think, to find themselves at
last in words. And so they went softly.
"Presently we were hungry and we went from our apartment,
going by a strange passage with a moving floor, until we came to
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