She passed the great pine that looks towards the Crelian and winding down, on the right by a long curve of paths, she reached the spring which an ancient sarcophagus receives on the steep slope, within a belt of myrtles, a few steps below the gardener's little house.

Here she stopped.

A window in the little house was lit up; surely that was Piero's window.

A shadow flitted across it--perhaps that was Noemi! Jeanne sat down on the marble rim of the basin.

Would it be possible to drown in that?
Would she try to die, if it were not for Carlino?
Vain speculations! She did not linger over them.