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Methought this was but a poor expedient; but I assured him of my obedience
and zeal. I quitted him to take a few hours rest. With the breaking of
morning I was accoutred for my ride. I lingered awhile, desirous of taking
leave of Perdita, and from my window observed the approach of the sun. The
golden splendour arose, and weary nature awoke to suffer yet another day of
heat and thirsty decay. No flowers lifted up their dew-laden cups to meet
the dawn; the dry grass had withered on the plains; the burning fields of
air were vacant of birds; the cicale alone, children of the sun, began
their shrill and deafening song among the cypresses and olives. I saw
Raymond's coal-black charger brought to the palace gate; a small company of
officers arrived soon after; care and fear was painted on each cheek, and
in each eye, unrefreshed by sleep. I found Raymond and Perdita together. He
was watching the rising sun, while with one arm he encircled his beloved's
waist; she looked on him, the sun of her life, with earnest gaze of mingled
anxiety and tenderness. Raymond started angrily when he saw me. "Here
still?" he cried. "Is this your promised zeal?"
"Pardon me," I said, "but even as you speak, I am gone."
"Nay, pardon me," he replied; "I have no right to command or reproach; but
my life hangs on your departure and speedy return. Farewell!"
His voice had recovered its bland tone, but a dark cloud still hung on his
features. I would have delayed; I wished to recommend watchfulness to
Perdita, but his presence restrained me. I had no pretence for my
hesitation; and on his repeating his farewell, I clasped his outstretched
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