At the Window

           Ihavealreadysaidthatmystormsofemotionhaveatrickofexhaustingthemselves. AfteratimeIdiscoveredthatIwascoldandwet,andwithlittlepoolsofwateraboutmeonthestaircarpet. Igotupalmostmechanically,wentintothediningroomanddranksomewhiskey,andthenIwasmovedtochangemyclothes. 

           AfterIhaddonethatIwentupstairstomystudy,butwhyIdidsoIdonotknow. ThewindowofmystudylooksoverthetreesandtherailwaytowardsHorsellCommon. Inthehurryofourdeparturethiswindowhadbeenleftopen. Thepassagewasdark,and,bycontrastwiththepicturethewindowframeenclosed,thesideoftheroomseemedimpenetrablydark. Istoppedshortinthedoorway. 

           Thethunderstormhadpassed. ThetowersoftheOrientalCollegeandthepinetreesaboutithadgone,andveryfaraway,litbyavividredglare,thecommonaboutthesandpitswasvisible. Acrossthelighthugeblackshapes,grotesqueandstrange,movedbusilytoandfro. 

           Itseemedindeedasifthewholecountryinthatdirectionwasonfire—abroadhillsidesetwithminutetonguesofflame,swayingandwrithingwiththegustsofthedyingstorm,andthrowingaredreflectionuponthecloudscudabove. EverynowandthenahazeofsmokefromsomenearerconflagrationdroveacrossthewindowandhidtheMartianshapes. Icouldnotseewhattheyweredoing,northeclearformofthem,norrecognisetheblackobjectstheywerebusiedupon. NeithercouldIseethenearerfire,thoughthereflectionsofitdancedonthewallandceilingofthestudy. Asharp,resinoustangofburningwasintheair.