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Gurney
nodded
.
His
mind
seemed
far
away
,
as
though
he
dwelled
for
this
moment
beneath
the
open
skies
of
Caladan
with
cloud
fleece
on
the
horizon
promising
rain
.
Paul
forced
himself
to
turn
away
,
let
himself
out
through
the
heavy
hangings
over
the
side
passage
.
He
heard
Gurney
take
up
a
tune
behind
him
,
and
paused
a
moment
outside
the
room
to
listen
to
the
muted
music
.
“
Orchards
and
vineyards
,
And
full
-
breasted
houris
,
And
a
cup
overflowing
before
me
.
Why
do
I
babble
of
battles
,
And
mountains
reduced
to
dust
?
Why
do
I
feel
these
tears
?
Heavens
stand
open
And
scatter
their
riches
;
