Волны

           ’

           ’Thebrutemenacesmyliberty,’saidNeville,’whenheprays.Unwarmedbyimagination,hiswordsfallcoldonmyheadlikepaving-stones,whilethegiltcrossheavesonhiswaistcoat.Thewordsofauthorityarecorruptedbythosewhospeakthem.Igibeandmockatthissadreligion,atthesetremulous,grief-strickenfiguresadvancing,cadaverousandwounded,downawhiteroadshadowedbyfigtreeswhereboyssprawlinthedust--nakedboys;andgoatskinsdistendedwithwinehangatthetaverndoor.IwasinRometravellingwithmyfatheratEaster;andthetremblingfigureofChrist’smotherwasborneniddle-noddlingalongthestreets;therewentbyalsothestrickenfigureofChristinaglasscase.

           ’NowIwillleansidewaysasiftoscratchmythigh.SoIshallseePercival.Therehesits,uprightamongthesmallerfry.Hebreathesthroughhisstraightnoseratherheavily.Hisblueandoddlyinexpressiveeyesarefixedwithpaganindifferenceuponthepillaropposite.Hewouldmakeanadmirablechurchwarden.Heshouldhaveabirchandbeatlittleboysformisdemeanours.HeisalliedwiththeLatinphrasesonthememorialbrasses.Heseesnothing;hehearsnothing.Heisremotefromusallinapaganuniverse.Butlook--heflickshishandtothebackofhisneck.Forsuchgesturesonefallshopelesslyinloveforalifetime.Dalton,Jones,EdgarandBatemanflicktheirhandstothebackoftheirneckslikewise.Buttheydonotsucceed.’

           ’Atlast,’saidBernard,’thegrowlceases.Thesermonends.Hehasmincedthedanceofthewhitebutterfliesatthedoortopowder.