"
"Till the light has changed," Nick echoed, a shadow falling over his face.
He raised himself higher on his elbow, his shoulder still touching her
foot, and they looked toward the west.
The forest seemed to have been lit up for some great religious festival.
Each towering tree was a Titanic candle, with a flame at the top, against
the far-off sky. The deep-red, fluted trunks gleamed with a pale luminous
rose, and long straight avenues of fire-dust stretched away to the end of
the world. A flood of golden flame poured through the forest, like a tidal
wave out of the sun. Then came an ebb, a pause. The wave receded. A faint
purple haze, like smoke from burning heliotropes, crept along the ground.
The torch of sunset broke into a million stars; blazing golden spiders
swung from glittering webs among the treetops; the melting crowns of the
redwoods dripped rubies. Red meteors fell and burst, and the wild glory
faded suddenly into a subdued, reminiscent glow. It was as if a cupful of
ruddy wine had been drunk at a gulp, leaving but a few drops to stain the
crystal. The rosy radiance ran along the horizon, and all that lived of
the sunset clung to the far edge of the world or caught the gold horns of
the Grizzly Giant's crown, which, like a high mountain summit, could hold
the light of day while night purpled the plain below.
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