For my traveller, after casting one comprehensive glance towards the
skies, suddenly whisked off at a canter that quickly carried him out
of sight.
A chill wind had begun to blow, lifting in gusts dust into the air and
whitening the tree-tops. As suddenly, calm succeeded. A cloud of
flies droned fretfully about my ears. And I watched advancing,
league-high, transfigured with sunbeams, the enormous gloom of storm.
The sun smote from a silvery haze upon its peaks and gorges. Wind, far
above the earth, moaned, and fell; only to sound once more in the
distance in a mournful trumpeting. Lightnings played along the
desolate hills. The sun was darkened. A vast flight of snowy,
arrow-winged birds streamed voiceless beneath his place. And day
withdrew its boundaries, spread to the nearer forests a bright
amphitheatre, fitful with light, whereof it seemed to me Rosinante
with her poor burden was the centre and the butt. I confess I began to
dread lest even my mere surmise of danger should engage the piercing
lightnings; as if in the mystery of life storm and a timorous thought
might yet be of a kin.
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