I was staring up at the panels of the vaulting,
relishing the beauty of the color scheme, the gold rosettes brilliant
against the deep blue of the soffits, set off by the red of the coffering.
So swimming and staring my eyes roamed downward to the great round-headed
coved window above the gallery. The railing of the gallery had a sort of
wicket in it, by which bathers could emerge one by one on to the bracket-
like platform which overhung the pool at that end, for use as a take-off
for a high dive.
Suddenly, on this diving-stand, poised for her dive, outlined against the
window behind her, I recognized Vedia; Vedia, my angered sweetheart, rosy
as Marcia, more lovely, and nude as Venus rising from the sea.
Seeing her thus, and seeing her thus unexpectedly, woke in me a volcanic
outburst of conflicting emotions altogether too much for my weakened
condition.
I fainted.
When I came to I felt weak and queer and did not at first open my eyes. I
heard subdued voices all about me, as of an interested crowd; I felt all
wet, I felt the cold of a wet mosaic pavement under me, but my head and
shoulders were pillowed on a support wet indeed, as I was, but soft and
warm.
I opened my eyes.
I realized that my head was in Vedia's lap, for I saw above me her
dripping breasts and, higher, her anxious face looking down at mine.
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