A parachute which he had
invented was to be used for the first time.
Though he could not help thinking of the eyes which haunted him with
their lure of purity and innocence, he would not concern himself further
with the comings and goings of Miss M. Grant of London. He went instead
about his own affairs. He slept badly; but Vanno was accustomed to
taking little sleep, therefore it did not occur to him to be tired
because he woke finally at seven, after having lain awake till the
ringing of Ste. Devote's five o'clock bells, down in the ravine.
Instead, he felt a kind of burning energy which forced him to activity
of some sort. After his cold bath he dressed quickly, and went out to
walk, wishing himself back in the Libyan desert, where he had not seen
or thought of any woman.
It was only half-past seven, and the sun was still low in the east, just
rising above the mountains of Italy. It shone through a slit in two long
purple clouds, and its shining lit the sea. Vanno ran down the steps to
the Casino terrace, coming upon it near the clump of nymphlike palms,
and the marble bust of Berlioz that Mary could see from her window.
Hercules' Rock was on fire with sunrise, and the Prince's palace looked
in the magic flame like a strange Valhalla.
Not a soul was to be seen, not even a gardener employed by the Casino,
and all the watching eyes of the horned animal were asleep. Vanno stared
at the great cream-white building with a brooding resentment, because of
the influence which he believed it to exert over his clouded star.
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