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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 221/416
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The
nights
passed
.
The
spring
grew
warmer
.
In
the
daytime
intermittent
rains
freshened
all
the
earth
.
The
flowers
of
the
Seed
ranch
grew
rapidly
.
Bud
after
bud
burst
forth
,
while
those
already
opened
expanded
to
full
maturity
.
The
colour
of
the
Seed
ranch
deepened
.
One
night
,
after
hours
of
waiting
,
Vanamee
felt
upon
his
cheek
the
touch
of
a
prolonged
puff
of
warm
wind
,
breathing
across
the
little
valley
from
out
the
east
.
It
reached
the
Mission
garden
and
stirred
the
branches
of
the
pear
trees
.
It
seemed
veritably
to
be
compounded
of
the
very
essence
of
the
flowers
.
Never
had
the
aroma
been
so
sweet
,
so
pervasive
.
It
passed
and
faded
,
leaving
in
its
wake
an
absolute
silence
.
Then
,
at
length
,
the
silence
of
the
night
,
that
silence
to
which
Vanamee
had
so
long
appealed
,
was
broken
by
a
tiny
sound
.
Alert
,
half
-
risen
from
the
ground
,
he
listened
;
for
now
,
at
length
,
he
heard
something
.
The
sound
repeated
itself
.
It
came
from
near
at
hand
,
from
the
thick
shadow
at
the
foot
of
the
hill
.
What
it
was
,
he
could
not
tell
,
but
it
did
not
belong
to
a
single
one
of
the
infinite
similar
noises
of
the
place
with
which
he
was
so
familiar
.
It
was
neither
the
rustle
of
a
leaf
,
the
snap
of
a
parted
twig
,
the
drone
of
an
insect
,
the
dropping
of
a
magnolia
blossom
.
It
was
a
vibration
merely
,
faint
,
elusive
,
impossible
of
definition
;
a
minute
notch
in
the
fine
,
keen
edge
of
stillness
.
Again
the
nights
passed
.
The
summer
stars
became
brighter
.
The
warmth
increased
.
The
flowers
of
the
Seed
ranch
grew
still
more
.
The
five
hundred
acres
of
the
ranch
were
carpeted
with
them
.
At
length
,
upon
a
certain
midnight
,
a
new
light
began
to
spread
in
the
sky
.
The
thin
scimitar
of
the
moon
rose
,
veiled
and
dim
behind
the
earth
-
mists
.
The
light
increased
.
Distant
objects
,
until
now
hidden
,
came
into
view
,
and
as
the
radiance
brightened
,
Vanamee
,
looking
down
upon
the
little
valley
,
saw
a
spectacle
of
incomparable
beauty
.
All
the
buds
of
the
Seed
ranch
had
opened
.
The
faint
tints
of
the
flowers
had
deepened
,
had
asserted
themselves
.
They
challenged
the
eye
.
Pink
became
a
royal
red
.
Blue
rose
into
purple
.
Yellow
flamed
into
orange
.
Orange
glowed
golden
and
brilliant
.
The
earth
disappeared
under
great
bands
and
fields
of
resplendent
colour
.
Then
,
at
length
,
the
moon
abruptly
soared
zenithward
from
out
the
veiling
mist
,
passing
from
one
filmy
haze
to
another
.
For
a
moment
there
was
a
gleam
of
a
golden
light
,
and
Vanamee
,
his
eyes
searching
the
shade
at
the
foot
of
the
hill
,
felt
his
heart
suddenly
leap
,
and
then
hang
poised
,
refusing
to
beat
.
In
that
instant
of
passing
light
,
something
had
caught
his
eye
.
Something
that
moved
,
down
there
,
half
in
and
half
out
of
the
shadow
,
at
the
hill
’
s
foot
.
It
had
come
and
gone
in
an
instant
.
The
haze
once
more
screened
the
moonlight
.
The
shade
again
engulfed
the
vision
.
What
was
it
he
had
seen
?
He
did
not
know
.
So
brief
had
been
that
movement
,
the
drowsy
brain
had
not
been
quick
enough
to
interpret
the
cipher
message
of
the
eye
.
Now
it
was
gone
.
But
something
had
been
there
.
He
had
seen
it
.
Was
it
the
lifting
of
a
strand
of
hair
,
the
wave
of
a
white
hand
,
the
flutter
of
a
garment
’
s
edge
?
He
could
not
tell
,
but
it
did
not
belong
to
any
of
those
sights
which
he
had
seen
so
often
in
that
place
.
It
was
neither
the
glancing
of
a
moth
’
s
wing
,
the
nodding
of
a
wind
-
touched
blossom
,
nor
the
noiseless
flitting
of
a
bat
.
It
was
a
gleam
merely
,
faint
,
elusive
,
impossible
of
definition
,
an
intangible
agitation
,
in
the
vast
,
dim
blur
of
the
darkness
.
And
that
was
all
.
Until
now
no
single
real
thing
had
occurred
,
nothing
that
Vanamee
could
reduce
to
terms
of
actuality
,
nothing
he
could
put
into
words
.
The
manifestation
,
when
not
recognisable
to
that
strange
sixth
sense
of
his
,
appealed
only
to
the
most
refined
,
the
most
delicate
perception
of
eye
and
ear
.
It
was
all
ephemeral
,
filmy
,
dreamy
,
the
mystic
forming
of
the
Vision
—
the
invisible
developing
a
concrete
nucleus
,
the
starlight
coagulating
,
the
radiance
of
the
flowers
thickening
to
something
actual
;
perfume
,
the
most
delicious
fragrance
,
becoming
a
tangible
presence
.
But
into
that
garden
the
serpent
intruded
.
Though
cradled
in
the
slow
rhythm
of
the
dream
,
lulled
by
this
beauty
of
a
summer
’
s
night
,
heavy
with
the
scent
of
flowers
,
the
silence
broken
only
by
a
rippling
fountain
,
the
darkness
illuminated
by
a
world
of
radiant
blossoms
,
Vanamee
could
not
forget
the
tragedy
of
the
Other
;
that
terror
of
many
years
ago
,
—
that
prowler
of
the
night
,
that
strange
,
fearful
figure
with
the
unseen
face
,
swooping
in
there
from
out
the
darkness
,
gone
in
an
instant
,
yet
leaving
behind
the
trail
and
trace
of
death
and
of
pollution
.
Never
had
Vanamee
seen
this
more
clearly
than
when
leaving
Presley
on
the
stock
range
of
Los
Muertos
,
he
had
come
across
to
the
Mission
garden
by
way
of
the
Quien
Sabe
ranch
.
