Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter IV
Andthen,inthemidstofthegentleperfumesofthegarden,theperfumesofthemagnoliaflowers,ofthemignonetteborders,ofthecrumblingwalls,thereexpandedanewodour,orthefaintminglingofmanyodours,thesmelloftherosesthatlingeredinherhair,oftheliliesthatexhaledfromherneck,oftheheliotropethatdisengageditselffromherhandsandarms,andofthehyacinthswithwhichherlittlefeetwereredolent,Andthen,suddenly,itwasherself—hereyes,heavy-lidded,violetblue,fulloftheloveofhim;hersweetfulllipsspeakinghisname;herhandsclaspinghishands,hisshoulders,hisneck—herwholedearbodygivingitselfintohisembrace;herlipsagainsthis;herhandsholdinghishead,drawinghisfacedowntohers.
Vanamee,asherememberedallthis,flungoutanarmwithacryofpain,hiseyessearchingthegloom,allhismindinstrenuousmutinyagainstthetriumphofDeath.Hisglanceshotswiftlyoutacrossthenight,unconsciouslyfollowingthedirectionfromwhichAngeleusedtocometohim.
“Cometomenow,”heexclaimedunderhisbreath,tenseandrigidwiththevastfutileeffortofhiswill.“Cometomenow,now.Don’tyouhearme,Angele?Youmust,youmustcome.”
SuddenlyVanameereturnedtohimselfwiththeabruptnessofablow.Hiseyesopened.Hehalfraisedhimselffromtheground.Swiftlyhisscatteredwitsreadjustedthemselves.Nevermoresane,nevermorehimself,herosetohisfeetandstoodlookingoffintothenightacrosstheSeedranch.
“Whatwasit?”hemurmured,bewildered.