midday
His last breath was spent in blessing me and in repeating that a single morning alone with me was more precious to him than a lifetime spent with another woman , were she even the Marie of his youth . My tears fall as I write the words . This is the manner of my life now . I rise at midday and go to bed at seven ; I linger absurdly long over meals ; I saunter about slowly , standing motionless , an hour at a time , before a single plant ; I gaze into the leafy trees ; I take a sober and serious interest in mere nothings ; I long for shade , silence , and night ; in a word , I fight through each hour as it comes , and take a gloomy pleasure in adding it to the heap of the vanquished . My peaceful park gives me all the company I care for ; everything there is full of glorious images of my vanished joy , invisible for others but eloquent to me . `` I can not away with you Spaniards ! '' I exclaimed one morning , as my sister-in-law flung herself on my neck .