Американська трагедія

Chapter 47

           

           Thequiet,glassy,iridescentsurfaceofthislakethatnowtobothseemed,notsomuchlikewaterasoillikemoltenglassthat,ofenormousbulkandweight,restinguponthesubstantialearthsoveryfarbelow.Andthelightnessandfreshnessandintoxicationofthegentleairblowinghereandthere,yetscarcelyripplingthesurfaceofthelake.Andthesoftnessandfurrythicknessofthetallpinesabouttheshore.Everywherepinestallandspearlike.AndabovethemthehumpedbacksofthedarkanddistantAdirondacksbeyond.Notarowertobeseen.Notahouseorcabin.Hesoughttodistinguishthecampofwhichtheguidehadspoken.Hecouldnot.Hesoughttodistinguishthevoicesofthosewhomightbethereoranyvoices.Yet,exceptforthelock-lockofhisownoarsasherowedandthevoiceoftheboathousekeeperandtheguideinconversetwohundred,threehundred,fivehundred,athousandfeetbehind,therewasnosound.

           "Isn’titstillandpeaceful?"ItwasRobertatalking."Itseemstobesorestfulhere.Ithinkit’sbeautiful,truly,somuchmorebeautifulthanthatotherlake.Thesetreesaresotall,aren’tthey?Andthosemountains.Iwasthinkingallthewayoverhowcoolandsilentthatroadwas,evenifitwasalittlerough."

           "Didyoutalktoanyoneintheinntherejustnow?"

           "Why,no;whatmakesyouask?"

           "Oh,Ithoughtyoumighthaverunintosomeone.

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