Хвилі

           ThisPalaceseemslightasacloudsetforamomentonthesky.Itisatrickofthemind--toputKingsontheirthrones,onefollowinganother,withcrownsontheirheads.Andweourselves,walkingsixabreast,whatdoweoppose,withthisrandomflickeroflightinusthatwecallbrainandfeeling,howcanwedobattleagainstthisflood;whathaspermanence?Ourlivestoostreamaway,downtheunlightedavenues,pastthestripoftime,unidentified.OnceNevillethrewapoematmyhead.Feelingasuddenconvictionofimmortality,Isaid,"ItooknowwhatShakespeareknew."Butthathasgone.’

           ’Unreasonably,ridiculously,’saidNeville,’aswewalk,timecomesback.Adogdoesit,prancing.Themachineworks.Agemakeshoarythatgateway.Threehundredyearsnowseemnomorethanamomentvanishedagainstthatdog.KingWilliammountshishorsewearingawig,andthecourtladiessweeptheturfwiththeirembroideredpanniers.Iambeginningtobeconvinced,aswewalk,thatthefateofEuropeisofimmenseimportance,and,ridiculousasitstillseems,thatalldependsuponthebattleofBlenheim.Yes;Ideclare,aswepassthroughthisgateway,itisthepresentmoment;IambecomeasubjectofKingGeorge.’

           ’Whileweadvancedownthisavenue,’saidLouis,’IleaningslightlyuponJinny,Bernardarm-in-armwithNeville,andSusanwithherhandinmine,itisdifficultnottoweep,callingourselveslittlechildren,prayingthatGodmaykeepussafewhilewesleep.Itissweettosingtogether,claspinghands,afraidofthedark,whileMissCurryplaystheharmonium.