With infinite caution she slid her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. A little wobbly. This is neither Death nor Hell. I can smell coffee brewing. The courtiers are awake. Just a blissful sleep. She opened the shutters and stepped out on to the balcony. The garden was hazed in blue shadow. Across the bay the rising sun tipped the ragged hills with gold and scarlet; gulls wheeled and spun like a scatter of torn papers across the stern of the sleeping American ship; halfway down the lawns under the pines a hoopoe, with flicking crest, probed the grass with a beak like a scimitar. The air was soft, scented, the iron rail cool against her thighs. In the brilliant sky, a vapour trail scored through the incandescent blue like a chalk mark. She ran hands roughly through her hair, shook her head, pressed fingers to her lips as if to stifle joy. And then she saw him. At the end of the lawns, coming up towards her from the point, heedless, half naked, tall, shining in the shadow, lithe, arms wide, head thrown back, laughing to himself. As the hoopoe swung in startled flight above the trees, he jumped high into the air, danced a little jig, spun round on one leg and with neat high skips, hopped up the gentle slope of the grass to throw his arms tightly about the trunk of a pine, pressing his head hard against its scaly bark, his back towards her.

The Prince, of course.

She leaned over the railing and called down quietly, ‘Good morning.’

He did not move immediately, neck bent against the trunk, legs astride, shoulders hunched in his embrace, but she saw the slight tremor in his back and then he turned slowly, eyes searching.

‘Up here.’ She made a half gesture with hand and wrist.

He saw her, dropped his arms, stood away from the tree.

‘Mrs Lazarus. Remember?’

He nodded and started to walk towards her barefoot across the dew-pearled grass, hair wet to his head, sleek like a seal, eyes holding hers steadily. He’s too much, she thought, too beautiful.

He stopped beneath the balcony, looking up at her, hands on hips. A certain smile on his lips. And bold too, she thought.

‘You better then?’

‘Much. Much, much better, thank you. I’ve slept for a thousand years, you see.’

‘That’s a long time.’

‘It is, isn’t it? Anyway something like that. As a matter of fact I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes. There’s supposed to be a Prince, did you know? After such a long sleep.’

‘Ah ha … yes, I remember. With a kiss or something.’

‘With a kiss. Not something.’

‘So …’

‘So?’

He pressed a hand over his mouth, balled it into a fist, made a quick throwing gesture up towards her. ‘Catch then.’

‘Caught! Perfect! It is quite wonderfully kind. What a glorious morning you have given me.’