There came a blessed day when my thirst was gone, when I looked up at the cracks in the ceiling and wondered why they did not change into horrors.  I watched them a long, long time, and it seemed incredible that they should still remain cracks.  Beyond that I would not go, into speculation I dared not venture.  They remained cracks, and I went to sleep thanking God.  When I awoke a breeze came in cool, fitful gusts, and on it the scent of camellias.  I thought of turning my head, and I remember wondering for a long time over the expediency of this move.  What would happen if I did!  Perhaps the visions would come back, perhaps my head would come off.  Finally I decided to risk it, and the first thing that I beheld was a palm-leaf fan, moving slowly.  That fact gave me food for thought, and contented me for a while.  Then I hit upon the idea that there must be something behind the fan.  I was distinctly pleased by this astuteness, and I spent more time in speculation.  Whatever it was, it had a tantalizing elusiveness, keeping the fan between it and me.  This was not fair.

I had an inspiration.  If I feigned to be asleep, perhaps the thing behind the fan would come out.  I shut my eyes.  The breeze continued steadily.  Surely no human being could fan as long as that without being tired!  I opened my eyes twice, but the thing was inscrutable.  Then I heard a sound that I knew to be a footstep upon boards.  A voice whispered:—­

“The delirium has left him.”

Another voice, a man’s voice, answered:—­

“Thank God!  Let me fan him.  You are tired.”

“I am not tired,” answered the first voice.

“I do not see how you have stood it,” said the man’s voice.  “You will kill yourself, Madame la Vicomtesse.  The danger is past now.”

“I hope so, Mr. Temple,” said the first voice.  “Please go away.  You may come back in half an hour.”

I heard the footsteps retreating.  Then I said:  “I am not asleep.”

The fan stopped for a brief instant and then went on vibrating inexorably.  I was entranced at the thought of what I had done.  I had spoken, though indeed it seemed to have had no effect.  Could it be that I hadn’t spoken?  I began to be frightened at this, when gradually something crept into my mind and drove the fear out.  I did not grasp what this was at first, it was like the first staining of wine on the eastern sky to one who sees a sunrise.  And then the thought grew even as the light grows, tinged by prismatic colors, until at length a memory struck into my soul like a shaft of light.  I spoke her name, unblushingly, aloud.

“Helene!”

The fan stopped.  There was a silence that seemed an eternity as the palm leaf trembled in her hand, there was an answer that strove tenderly to command.

“Hush, you must not talk,” she said.

Never, I believe, came such supreme happiness with obedience.  I felt her hand upon my brow, and the fan moved again.  I fell asleep once more from sheer weariness of joy.  She was there, beside me.  She had been there, beside me, through it all, and it was her touch which had brought me back to life.