Her dreams now were
of the _dolce far niente_ of a tropical climate, a boudoir giving on the
Caribbean sea, cigarettes, coffee, nights spent in a foreign opera
house, the languid, reposeful existence of a Spanish dama--with him,
with him. It was for his sake that she had modified all her ideas of
life. To be with him she would have been content to dwell in the tents
of the Patagonians, on the wild and snow-clad Pampas. A love which was
strong enough to make her sacrifice duty, the world, her fair fame as a
well-bred woman, was a love that recked but little of the paths along
which her lover's hand was to lead. For him, to be with him, she
renounced the world. The rest did not count.
The summer hours glided past them. The _Cayman_ was far out at sea; all
the other yachts had vanished, and they were alone amidst the blue,
with only a solitary three-master yonder, on the edge of the horizon.
More than once Lesbia had talked of going below to change her ball gown
for the attire of everyday life; but each time her lover had detained
her a little longer, had pleaded for a few more words.
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