Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           Aboutnineo’clockheblewoutthelampand,punchinguphispillow,settledhimselfforthenight.

           Then,ashismindrelaxedinthatstrange,hypnoticconditionthatcomesjustbeforesleep,aseriesofpicturesoftheday’sdoingspassedbeforehisimaginationliketherollofakinetoscope.

           First,itwasHilmaTree,ashehadseenherinthedairy-house—charming,delicious,radiantofyouth,herthick,whiteneckwithitspaleambershadowsunderthechin;herwide,openeyesrimmedwithfine,blacklashes;thedeepswellofherbreastandhips,thedelicate,lustrousflossonhercheek,impalpableasthepollenofaflower.Hesawherstandingthereinthescintillatinglightofthemorning,hersmootharmswetwithmilk,redolentandfragrantofmilk,herwhole,desirablefiguremovinginthegoldengloryofthesun,steepedinalambentflame,saturatedwithit,glowingwithit,joyousasthedawnitself.

           ThenitwasLosMuertosandHooven,thesordidlittleDutchman,grimedwiththesoilheworkedin,yetvividlyrememberingaperiodofmilitaryglory,excitinghimselfwithrecollectionsofGravelotteandtheKaiser,butcontentednowinthecountryofhisadoption,definingtheFatherlandastheplacewherewifeandchildrenlived.ThencametheranchhouseofLosMuertos,underthegroveofcypressandeucalyptus,withitssmooth,gravelleddrivewayandwell-groomedlawns;Mrs.