nearly noon
Fatigue or heat she showed none . Her paleness was not a pallor , but a pure whiteness ; her breathing was slow and deep . Her eyes seemed to fill the heavens , and give light to the world . It was nearly noon , but the sense was upon me as of a great night in which an invisible dew makes the stars look large . `` Why do you follow me ? '' she asked , quietly but rather sternly , as if she had never before seen me . `` I have lived so long , '' I answered , `` on the mere hope of your eyes , that I must want to see them again ! ''