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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 220/416
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His
eyes
closed
,
his
will
girding
itself
to
a
supreme
effort
,
his
senses
exalted
to
a
state
of
pleasing
numbness
,
he
called
upon
Angele
to
come
to
him
,
his
voiceless
cry
penetrating
far
out
into
that
sea
of
faint
,
ephemeral
light
that
floated
tideless
over
the
little
valley
beneath
him
.
Then
motionless
,
prone
upon
the
ground
,
he
waited
.
Months
had
passed
since
that
first
night
when
,
at
length
,
an
Answer
had
come
to
Vanamee
.
At
first
,
startled
out
of
all
composure
,
troubled
and
stirred
to
his
lowest
depths
,
because
of
the
very
thing
for
which
he
sought
,
he
resolved
never
again
to
put
his
strange
powers
to
the
test
.
But
for
all
that
,
he
had
come
a
second
night
to
the
garden
,
and
a
third
,
and
a
fourth
.
At
last
,
his
visits
were
habitual
.
Night
after
night
he
was
there
,
surrendering
himself
to
the
influences
of
the
place
,
gradually
convinced
that
something
did
actually
answer
when
he
called
.
His
faith
increased
as
the
winter
grew
into
spring
.
As
the
spring
advanced
and
the
nights
became
shorter
,
it
crystallised
into
certainty
.
Would
he
have
her
again
,
his
love
,
long
dead
?
Would
she
come
to
him
once
more
out
of
the
grave
,
out
of
the
night
?
He
could
not
tell
;
he
could
only
hope
.
All
that
he
knew
was
that
his
cry
found
an
answer
,
that
his
outstretched
hands
,
groping
in
the
darkness
,
met
the
touch
of
other
fingers
.
Patiently
he
waited
.
The
nights
became
warmer
as
the
spring
drew
on
.
The
stars
shone
clearer
.
The
nights
seemed
brighter
.
For
nearly
a
month
after
the
occasion
of
his
first
answer
nothing
new
occurred
.
Some
nights
it
failed
him
entirely
;
upon
others
it
was
faint
,
illusive
.
Then
,
at
last
,
the
most
subtle
,
the
barest
of
perceptible
changes
began
.
His
groping
mind
far
-
off
there
,
wandering
like
a
lost
bird
over
the
valley
,
touched
upon
some
thing
again
,
touched
and
held
it
and
this
time
drew
it
a
single
step
closer
to
him
.
His
heart
beating
,
the
blood
surging
in
his
temples
,
he
watched
with
the
eyes
of
his
imagination
,
this
gradual
approach
.
What
was
coming
to
him
?
Who
was
coming
to
him
?
Shrouded
in
the
obscurity
of
the
night
,
whose
was
the
face
now
turned
towards
his
?
Whose
the
footsteps
that
with
such
infinite
slowness
drew
nearer
to
where
he
waited
?
He
did
not
dare
to
say
.
His
mind
went
back
many
years
to
that
time
before
the
tragedy
of
Angele
’
s
death
,
before
the
mystery
of
the
Other
.
He
waited
then
as
he
waited
now
.
But
then
he
had
not
waited
in
vain
.
Then
,
as
now
,
he
had
seemed
to
feel
her
approach
,
seemed
to
feel
her
drawing
nearer
and
nearer
to
their
rendezvous
.
Now
,
what
would
happen
?
He
did
not
know
.
He
waited
.
He
waited
,
hoping
all
things
.
He
waited
,
believing
all
things
.
He
waited
,
enduring
all
things
.
He
trusted
in
the
Vision
.
Meanwhile
,
as
spring
advanced
,
the
flowers
in
the
Seed
ranch
began
to
come
to
life
.
Over
the
five
hundred
acres
whereon
the
flowers
were
planted
,
the
widening
growth
of
vines
and
bushes
spread
like
the
waves
of
a
green
sea
.
Then
,
timidly
,
colours
of
the
faintest
tints
began
to
appear
.
Under
the
moonlight
,
Vanamee
saw
them
expanding
,
delicate
pink
,
faint
blue
,
tenderest
variations
of
lavender
and
yellow
,
white
shimmering
with
reflections
of
gold
,
all
subdued
and
pallid
in
the
moonlight
.
By
degrees
,
the
night
became
impregnated
with
the
perfume
of
the
flowers
.
Illusive
at
first
,
evanescent
as
filaments
of
gossamer
;
then
as
the
buds
opened
,
emphasising
itself
,
breathing
deeper
,
stronger
.
An
exquisite
mingling
of
many
odours
passed
continually
over
the
Mission
,
from
the
garden
of
the
Seed
ranch
,
meeting
and
blending
with
the
aroma
of
its
magnolia
buds
and
punka
blossoms
.
As
the
colours
of
the
flowers
of
the
Seed
ranch
deepened
,
and
as
their
odours
penetrated
deeper
and
more
distinctly
,
as
the
starlight
of
each
succeeding
night
grew
brighter
and
the
air
became
warmer
,
the
illusion
defined
itself
.
By
imperceptible
degrees
,
as
Vanamee
waited
under
the
shadows
of
the
pear
trees
,
the
Answer
grew
nearer
and
nearer
.
He
saw
nothing
but
the
distant
glimmer
of
the
flowers
.
He
heard
nothing
but
the
drip
of
the
fountain
.
Nothing
moved
about
him
but
the
invisible
,
slow
-
passing
breaths
of
perfume
;
yet
he
felt
the
approach
of
the
Vision
.
It
came
first
to
about
the
middle
of
the
Seed
ranch
itself
,
some
half
a
mile
away
,
where
the
violets
grew
;
shrinking
,
timid
flowers
,
hiding
close
to
the
ground
.
Then
it
passed
forward
beyond
the
violets
,
and
drew
nearer
and
stood
amid
the
mignonette
,
hardier
blooms
that
dared
look
heavenward
from
out
the
leaves
.
A
few
nights
later
it
left
the
mignonette
behind
,
and
advanced
into
the
beds
of
white
iris
that
pushed
more
boldly
forth
from
the
earth
,
their
waxen
petals
claiming
the
attention
.
It
advanced
then
a
long
step
into
the
proud
,
challenging
beauty
of
the
carnations
and
roses
;
and
at
last
,
after
many
nights
,
Vanamee
felt
that
it
paused
,
as
if
trembling
at
its
hardihood
,
full
in
the
superb
glory
of
the
royal
lilies
themselves
,
that
grew
on
the
extreme
border
of
the
Seed
ranch
nearest
to
him
.
After
this
,
there
was
a
certain
long
wait
.
Then
,
upon
a
dark
midnight
,
it
advanced
again
.
Vanamee
could
scarcely
repress
a
cry
.
Now
,
the
illusion
emerged
from
the
flowers
.
It
stood
,
not
distant
,
but
unseen
,
almost
at
the
base
of
the
hill
upon
whose
crest
he
waited
,
in
a
depression
of
the
ground
where
the
shadows
lay
thickest
.
It
was
nearly
within
earshot
.
