Sir John whispered in his ear: "You are still a trifle pale.

Go on toward the fountain; I will fetch you when we are ready." "Ah! that's the idea," said Roland.

"I have always wanted to see that famous fountain of Vaucluse, the Hippocrene of Petrarch.

You know his sonnet?
"'Chiari, fresche e dolci acque Ove le belle membra Pose colei, che sola a me perdona.' This opportunity lost, I may never have another.

Where is your fountain ?" "Not a hundred feet off.