"Then as the day advanced, and I had back strength enough to be dressed, and had got through the business of the fleet, she would have me come into her own salon, the pleasantest room in the house after my chamber, to rest upon a couch until it should be time for the midday meal, which they take here in Naples very early. While I was on the couch she would pull one of the long Italian stools by my side, and, half sitting, half kneeling on it in the most graceful attitude in the world, leaning her elbow at times on my couch for the balance, read or talk or be silent, as my mood was, and if my head troubled me, press it gently but firmly with her hands, which were very full of restoring energy. She would do this, which is very fatiguing when done from below, until she had charmed away the pain by some hand-healing powers well known to the Italians. And when it was over, and I was dozing off, she would rest her own head against me. At first this was to snatch a moment of needed rest, but it soothed me. The contact with her, I think, carried on that current of energy or sympathy which I found so curative. "I wonder,--no, I cannot think it was wicked of me to caress with my fingers that beautiful head which was so kind to me; to train back the auburn curls running over it, when they strayed in front of her little pink ears; to press it lightly with my lips in the hope that she would just perceive and the hope that she would just not perceive this suggestion of gratitude and appreciation. Only yesterday morning, after a week of this tender nursing, her head was a little nearer to me; and feeling that this was the last of such mornings, I being now sufficiently the better to be able to resume my ordinary day, I ventured to press my lips firmly upon the bright hair just above the noble forehead,--so intellectual, so exquisite, in the contour of its brows,--intending to signify gratitude for her care, and the end of my pleasant ailing. But she would not have it, and, in its place, turned up to me her face, the very type of rosy beauty, and radiant with tenderness for my infirmity. My infirmity, alas! of another sort was not proof, and I kissed her tenderly, gratefully and respectfully, and taking her hand in mine held it for I know not how long, pouring out my thanks for her goodness.