She wished she could take off her stockings, and if there had been a stream she would have done it, so sure was she that no one would disturb her, up there amongst the rocks and ever so far from Pontresina.

It would have been delightful to paddle in the cold running water, for it was much hotter than she had ever supposed that it could be in such a place.
She took off her straw hat, and fanned herself gently with it, letting the sunshine fall full upon her thick black hair.

She had never owned a hat in her life till she had been installed in the little house in Trastevere, and she hated the inconvenient things.

What was her hair for, if it could not protect her head?
But a straw hat made a very good fan.

The air was hot and still, and there were none of those thousand little sounds which she would have heard in the chestnut woods above Frascati.
A little cry broke the silence, and she turned her head in the direction whence it came.