The air was warm, the scent of the flowers sweet but not heavy.

The silence was intense, for even the little fountain was still.
He had watched almost all night and his eyelids drooped.

He forgot Unorna and thought only of the sick man, trying to fix his attention on the pale head as it lay under the bright light.
When Unorna looked up at last she saw that he was asleep.

At first she was surprised, in spite of what she had said to him half an hour earlier, for she herself could not have closed her eyes, and felt that she could never close them again.

Then she sighed.