summer noon
Yet to Richard those minutes were as years , as centuries . At length , still heavy with dreamless slumber , he was aware of the stealthy turning of a key in a lock . Little padding foot-falls , soft as those of some strong , yet dainty , cat-creature crossed the carpet . A whisper of silk came along with them , like the murmur of the breeze in an oak grove on a clear , hot , summer noon , or the sibilant ripple of the sea upon spaces of fine-ribbed , yellow sand . And the impression produced upon Richard was delicious , as of one passing from a close room into the open air . Confusion and exhaustion left him . Energy returned .