dark figures gathered round and he heard confused voices. He thought
Jake knelt down and tried to lift him, but this brought on a stab of
burning pain and he knew nothing more.

CHAPTER X

LA MIGNONNE

A cool sea breeze blew through the half-opened lattice, and a ray of
sunshine quivered upon the ocher-colored wall, when Dick awoke from a
refreshing sleep. He felt helplessly weak, and his side, which was
covered by a stiff bandage, hurt him when he moved, but his head was
clear at last and he languidly looked about. The room was spacious, but
rather bare. There was no carpet, but a rug made a blotch of cool green
on the smooth, dark floor. Two or three religious pictures hung upon the
wall and he noted how the soft blue of the virgin's dress harmonized with
the yellow background. An arch at one end was covered by a leather
curtain like those in old Spanish churches, but it had been partly drawn
back to let the air circulate. Outside the hooked-back lattice he saw the
rails of a balcony, and across the narrow patio a purple creeper spread
about a dazzling white wall.

All this was vaguely familiar, because it was some days since Dick had
recovered partial consciousness, though he had been too feeble to notice
his surroundings much or find out where he was. Now he studied the room
with languid interest as he tried to remember what had led to his being
brought there. The scanty furniture was dark and old; and he knew the
wrinkled, brown-faced woman in black who sat by the window with a dark
shawl wound round her head. She had a place in his confused memories; as
had another woman with a curious lifeless face and an unusual dress, who
had once or twice lifted him and done something to his bandages. Still,
it was not of her Dick was thinking. There had been somebody else,
brighter and fresher than either, who sat beside him when he lay in
fevered pain and sometimes stole in and vanished after a pitiful glance.

A bunch of flowers stood upon the table; and their scent mingled with the
faint smell of decay that hung about the room. Lying still, Dick heard
the leather curtain rustle softly in the draught, muffled sounds of
traffic, and the drowsy murmur of the surf. Its rhythmic beat was
soothing and he thought he could smell the sea. By and by he made an
abrupt move that hurt him as a voice floated into the room. It was
singularly clear and sweet, and he thought he knew it, as he seemed to
know the song, but could