My attention wandered; the author was powerless to recall it.

I got on my feet once more, and looked at Eustace, and admired him and loved him in his tranquil sleep.

I went back to the window, and wearied of the beautiful morning.

I sat down before the glass and looked at myself.

How haggard and worn I was already, through awaking before my usual time! I rose again, not knowing what to do next.
The confinement to the four walls of the room began to be intolerable to me.