Then the light grew rich and deep, and the sea swallows shot from the
misty heights, like arrows, into the calm purple air below, and skimmed
and wheeled, and rose again, startled by the splash of the oars and the
dull knock of them as they swung in the tholes. And the water was like a
mirror in which all manner of rare and lovely things are reflected, with
blots of liquid gold and sheen of soft-hued damask, and great handfuls
of pearls and opals strewn between, and roses and petals of many kinds
of flowers without names. And the air was full of the faint, salt odours
that haunt the lonely places of the sea, sweet and bitter at once as the
last days of a young life fading fast. Then the great needles rose
gigantic from the depths to heaven, and beyond, through the mysterious,
shadowy arch that pierces one of them, was opened the glorious vision of
a distant cloud-lit water, and a single dark sail far away stood still,
as it were, on the very edge of the world.
Beatrice leaned back and gazed at the scene, and her delicate nostrils
expanded as she breathed. There was less colour in her face than there
had been, and the long lashes half veiled her eyes.
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