Кінець рабства
IV
Thebrightdomesoftheparasolsswayedlightlyoutwardslikefull-blownblossomsontherimofavase;andthequietsheetofdark-bluewater,crossedbyabarofpurple,madeabackgroundforthespinningwheelsandthehighactionofthehorses,whilsttheturbanedheadsoftheIndianservantselevatedabovethelineoftheseahorizonglidedrapidlyonthepalerblueofthesky.Inanopenspacenearthelittlebridgeeachturn-outtrottedsmartlyinawidecurveawayfromthesunset;thenpullingupsharp,enteredthemainalleyinalongslow-movingfilewiththegreatredstillnessoftheskyattheback.Thetrunksofmightytreesstoodalltouchedwithredonthesameside,theairseemedaflameunderthehighfoliage,theverygroundunderthehoofsofthehorseswasred.Thewheelsturnedsolemnly;oneafteranotherthesunshadesdrooped,foldingtheircolorslikegorgeousflowersshuttingtheirpetalsattheendoftheday.Inthewholehalf-mileofhumanbeingsnovoiceutteredadistinctword,onlyafaintthuddingnoisewentonmingledwithslightjinglingsounds,andthemotionlessheadsandshouldersofmenandwomensittingincouplesemergedstolidlyabovetheloweredhoods—asifwooden.Butonecarriageandpaircominglatedidnotjointheline.
Itfledalonginanoiselessroll;butonenteringtheavenueoneofthedarkbayssnorted,archinghisneckandshyingagainstthesteel-tippedpole;aflakeoffoamfellfromthebituponthepointofasatinyshoulder,andtheduskyfaceofthecoachmanleanedforwardatonceoverthehandstakingafreshgripofthereins.
