Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           EighteenyearshadpassedsinceAngelehaddied,butthethreadofVanamee’slifehadbeensnapped.Nothingremainednowbutthetangledends.Hehadneverforgotten.Thelong,dullache,thepoignantgriefhadnowbecomeapartofhim.Presleyknewthistobeso.

           WhilePresleyhadbeenreflectinguponallthis,Vanameehadcontinuedtospeak.Presley,however,hadnotbeenwhollyinattentive.Whilehismemorywasbusyreconstructingthedetailsofthedramaoftheshepherd’slife,anotherpartofhisbrainhadbeenswiftlyregisteringpictureafterpicturethatVanamee’smonotonousflowofwordsstruckoff,asitwere,uponasteadilymovingscroll.Themusicoftheunfamiliarnamesthatoccurredinhisrecitalwasastimulanttothepoet’simagination.Presleyhadthepoet’spassionforexpressive,sonorousnames.AsthesecameandwentinVanamee’smonotonousundertones,likelittlenotesofharmonyinamusicalprogression,helistened,delightedwiththeirresonance.—Navajo,Quijotoa,Uintah,Sonora,Laredo,Uncompahgre—tohimtheyweresomanysymbols.ItwashisWestthatpassed,unrollingtherebeforetheeyeofhismind:theopen,heat-scourgedroundofdesert;themesa,likeavastaltar,shimmeringpurpleintheroyalsunset;thestill,giganticmountains,heavingintotheskyfromoutthecanyons;thestrenuous,fiercelifeofisolatedtowns,lostandforgotten,downthere,faroff,belowthehorizon.Abruptlyhisgreatpoem,hisSongoftheWest,leapedupagaininhisimagination.Forthemoment,heallbutheldit.Itwasthere,closeathand.Inanotherinstanthewouldgraspit.