nimble assistants. During the time of anxiety and nursing, Barine had
formed a warm friendship for them. If the taciturn men avoided using a
single unnecessary word, the women were all the more ready to gossip; and
it was a pleasure to talk to pretty Dione, who had grown up on the island
and was eager to hear about the outside world.

Dion had long since left his couch and the house, and each day looked
happier, more content with himself and his surroundings. At first his
feverish visions had shown him his dead mother, pointing anxiously at his
new-made wife, as if to warn him against her. During his convalescence
he remembered them and they conjured up the doubt whether Barine could
endure the solitude of this desolate cliff, whether she would not lose
the bright serenity of soul whose charm constantly increased. Would it
be any marvel if she should pine with longing in this solitude, and even
suffer physically from their severe privations?

The perception that love now supplied the place of all which she had lost
pleased him, but he forbade himself to expect that this condition of
affairs could be lasting. Nothing save exaggerated self-conceit would
induce the hope. But he must have undervalued his own power of
attraction--or Barine's love--for with each passing week the cheerful
serenity of her disposition gained fresh steadfastness and charm. He,
too, had the same experience; it was long since he had felt so vigorous,
untrammelled, and free from care. His sole regret was the impossibility
of sharing the political life of the city at this critical period; and at
times he felt some little anxiety concerning the fate and management of
his property, though, even if his estates were confiscated, he would
still retain a competence which he had left in the hands of a trustworthy
money-changer. Barine shared everything that concerned him, even these
moods, and this led him to tell her about the affairs of the city and the