Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія

           Asthehourspassed,thetwomen,farapart,ignoringeachother,waitedfortheManifestation,—Annixterontheranch,Vanameeinthegarden.

           Proneuponhisface,underthepeartrees,hisforeheadburiedinthehollowofhisarm,Vanameelaymotionless.Forthelasttime,raisinghishead,hesenthisvoicelesscryoutintothenightacrossthemulti-colouredlevelsofthelittlevalley,callinguponthemiracle,summoningthedarknesstogiveAngelebacktohim,resigninghimselftothehallucination.Hebowedhisheaduponhisarmagainandwaited.Theminutespassed.Thefountaindrippedsteadily.Overthehillsahazeofsaffronlightforetoldtherisingofthefullmoon.Nothingstirred.Thesilencewasprofound.

           Then,abruptly,Vanamee’srighthandshuttightuponhiswrist.There—thereitwas.Itbeganagain,hisinvocationwasanswered.Faroffthere,therippleformedagainuponthestill,blackpoolofthenight.Nosound,nosight;vibrationmerely,appreciablebysomesublimatedfacultyofthemindasyetunnamed.Rigid,hisnervestaut,motionless,proneontheground,hewaited.

           Itadvancedwithinfiniteslowness.Nowitpassedthroughthebedsofviolets,nowthroughthemignonette.Amomentlater,andheknewitstoodamongthewhiteiris.Thenitleftthosebehind.Itwasinthesplendouroftheredrosesandcarnations.Itpassedlikeamovingstarintothesuperbabundance,theimperialopulenceoftheroyallilies.Itwasadvancingslowly,buttherewasnopause.Heheldhisbreath,notdaringtoraisehishead.