Of a sudden I started and sat up erect. I had been dreaming, and in
my dream I had seen two figures pass along the road beyond the fringe
of the trees. They had passed warily, yet hurriedly, across the
patch of it now showing white between the olive trunks, under the
risen moon. Yet how could this have happened if I had dreamed it
merely? The moon, when I fell asleep, had not surmounted the ridge
behind me, and that patch of road, now showing so white and clear,
had been dim, if not quite invisible. None the less I could be sworn
that two figures had passed up the road . . . two men . . .
Marc'antonio and Stephanu?--reconnoitring perhaps? I rubbed my eyes.
No: Marc'antonio and Stephanu lay a few paces away, stretched in
profound sleep under the moonlight drifting between the olive boughs;
and yonder, past the fringe of the orchard, shone the patch of white
high road. Two figures, half a minute since, had passed along it.
I could be sworn to it, even while reason insisted that I had been
dreaming.
I flung off my rug, and, stepping softly to the verge of the
orchard's shadow, peered out upon the road.
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