‘I will go to the sea,’ she thought. ‘I will swim out into it and go on swimming.’
A heavy, sweetly astringent fragrance hung on the air, the perfume of thyme and rosemary, of lavender and rockroses.
The starry sky was stretched out over the sleeping land, but the night was filled with sound.
There was the croak of tree-frogs, the hollow hoot of an owl, the high squeak of bats.
Valda was unaware of anything but the misery encompassing her like a cloud.
Vaguely she saw large, massive, shadowy figures ahead and there was the pungent smell of sleeping animals.
The taureaux had settled down for the night and were dozing. Only the twitching of ears, the flicking of tails and muted snorts proclaimed their presence.
She moved past them, her white nightgown standing out against the darkness
