Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           Closeathand,ashortfourfeetunderthatmoundofgrass,wastheformhehadsooftenheldintheembraceofhisarms;theface,theveryfacehehadkissed,thatfacewiththehairofgoldmakingthree-corneredtheroundwhiteforehead,theviolet-blueeyes,heavy-lidded,withtheirstrangeorientalslantupwardtowardthetemples;thesweetfulllips,almostEgyptianintheirfulness—allthatstrange,perplexing,wonderfulbeauty,sotroublous,soenchanting,sooutofallacceptedstandards.

           Hebentdown,droppingupononeknee,ahandupontheheadstone,andreadagaintheinscription.Theninstinctivelyhishandleftthestoneandresteduponthelowmoundofturf,touchingitwiththesoftnessofacaress;andthen,beforehewasawareofit,hewasstretchedatfulllengthupontheearth,besidethegrave,hisarmsaboutthelowmound,hislipspressedagainstthegrasswithwhichitwascovered.Thepent-upgriefofnearlytwentyyearsroseagainwithinhisheart,andoverflowed,irresistible,violent,passionate.Therewasnoonetosee,noonetohear.Vanameehadnothoughtofrestraint.Henolongerwrestledwithhispain—stroveagainstit.Therewasevenasenseofreliefinpermittinghimselftobeovercome.Butthereactionfromthisoutburstwasequallyviolent.Hisrevoltagainsttheinevitable,hisprotestagainstthegrave,shookhimfromheadtofoot,goadedhimbeyondallboundsofreason,houndedhimonandintothedomainofhysteria,dementia.Vanameewasnolongermasterofhimself—nolongerknewwhathewasdoing.