Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія
Chapter III
Noteventheminutescufflingofalizardoverthewarm,wornpavementofthecolonnadedisturbedtheinfiniterepose,theprofoundstillness.Onlywithinthegarden,theintermittenttricklingofthefountainmadeitselfheard,flowingsteadily,markingoffthelapseofseconds,theprogressofhours,thecycleofyears,theinevitablemarchofcenturies.Atonetime,thedoorwaybeforewhichVanameenowstoodhadbeenhermeticallyclosed.Buthe,himself,hadlongsincechangedthat.Hestoodbeforeitforamoment,steepinghimselfinthemysteryandromanceoftheplace,thenraisinghelatch,pushedopenthegate,entered,andcloseditsoftlybehindhim.Hewasinthecloistergarden.
Thestarswereout,strewnthickandcloseinthedeepblueofthesky,themilkywayglowinglikeasilverveil.UrsaMajorwheeledgiganticinthenorth.ThegreatnebulainOrionwasawhorlofshimmeringstardust.Venusflamedalambentdiskofpalesaffron,lowoverthehorizon.Fromedgetoedgeoftheworldmarchedtheconstellations,liketheprogressofemperors,andfromtheinnumerablegloryoftheircoursesamysterioussheenofdiaphanouslightdisengageditself,expandingoveralltheearth,serene,infinite,majestic.
Thelittlegardenrevealeditselfbutdimlybeneaththebroodinglight,onlyhalfemergingfromtheshadow.Thepolishedsurfacesoftheleavesofthepeartreeswinkedfaintlybackthereflectedlightasthetreesjuststirredintheuncertainbreeze.Ablurredshieldofsilvermarkedtheripplesofthefountain.
