They went straight ahead, rocked by the swell. The sun was lowering
toward evening. The rocky cliffs and the sea had grown purple;
everything round about was calm, quiet, and so immense that, in spite of
himself, Svirski thought how contemptible and petty life was in view of
those elements which surrounded him at that moment. Suddenly he felt as
if his own affairs, and those of other men, had gone somewhere very far
off. Pani Elzen, Romulus, Remus, and all his acquaintances along the
shore, all that swarm of people filled with fever, unrest, paltry
ambitions, and wretched desires, were belittled in his eyes. As a man
accustomed to analyze what happens within him, he was frightened at that
impression; for he considered that if he loved Pani Elzen really, her
portrait would not be covered by anything, would not be dimmed, would
not be decreased, would not disappear. Such had been the case with him
formerly. Svirski remembered that when a woman whom he loved got
married, he went on a journey. At that time he learned first to know
Italy, Rome, Sicily, and the sea, and the coast of Africa; and no
impression dimmed in his mind the memory of the beloved woman. In the
galleries of Florence and Rome, on the sea and in the desert, she was
with him; through her he received every impression, and everywhere he
said to her, as if present, "Look at this!" The difference between those
distant years and to-day filled him with sadness.
But the calm of the sea acted on him in a manner that was healing. They
had sailed out so far that the shores began to be concealed. Then the
sun went down; one star twinkled, and then another. The dolphins, which
in the evening twilight passed before the boat with the motion of waves,
disturbing the calm surface with their sharp backs, sank in the depth,
and from no point came an echo. The surface of the water had grown so
smooth that at moments the sails became limp. Finally, the moon rose
from beyond the mountains, pouring a greenish light over the sea and
illuminating it far off to the limit of the horizon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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