midday
These books were either long , long familiar to me or else had no interest for me , but I had the sound of a sweet , kind voice beside me , so that the meaning of all of them was summed up for me in the one thing -- I was not alone . She would go out for a walk , come back in her light grey dress , her light straw hat , gay , warmed by the spring sun ; and sitting by my bed , bending low down over me , would tell me something about Venice or read me those books -- and I was happy . At night I was cold , ill , and dreary , but by day I revelled in life -- I can find no better expression for it . The brilliant warm sunshine beating in at the open windows and at the door upon the balcony , the shouts below , the splash of oars , the tinkle of bells , the prolonged boom of the cannon at midday , and the feeling of perfect , perfect freedom , did wonders with me ; I felt as though I were growing strong , broad wings which were bearing me God knows whither . And what charm , what joy at times at the thought that another life was so close to mine ! that I was the servant , the guardian , the friend , the indispensable fellow-traveller of a creature , young , beautiful , wealthy , but weak , lonely , and insulted ! It is pleasant even to be ill when you know that there are people who are looking forward to your convalescence as to a holiday .