Stories by Foreign Authors: Polish, Greek, Belgian, Hungarian
General
Stories by Foreign Authors: Polish, Greek, Belgian, Hungarian
Short stories -- Translations into English
cease; the mews hid themselves in the rents of the cliffs; the waves
grew feeble and became in some sort lazy; and then on the land, on the
sea, and on the tower came a time of stillness unbroken by anything.
The yellow sands from which the waves had fallen back glittered like
golden stripes on the width of the waters; the body of the tower was
outlined definitely in blue. Floods of sunbeams were poured from the
sky on the water and the sands and the cliff. At that time a certain
lassitude full of sweetness seized the old man. He felt that the rest
which he was enjoying was excellent; and when he thought that it would
be continuous nothing was lacking to him.
Skavinski was intoxicated with his own happiness; and since a man
adapts himself easily to improved conditions, he gained faith and
confidence by degrees; for he thought that if men built houses for
invalids, why should not God gather up at last His own invalids? Time
passed, and confirmed him in this conviction. The old man grew
accustomed to his tower, to the lantern, to the rock, to the sand-bars,
to solitude. He grew accustomed also to the sea-mews which hatched in
the crevices of the rock, and in the evening held meetings on the roof
of the light-house. Skavinski threw to them generally the remnants of
his food; and soon they grew tame, and afterward, when he fed them, a
real storm of white wings encircled him, and the old man went among the
birds like a shepherd among sheep. When the tide ebbed he went to the
low sand-banks, on which he collected savory periwinkles and beautiful
pearl shells of the nautilus, which receding waves had left on the
sand. In the night by the moonlight and the tower he went to catch
fish, which frequented the windings of the cliff in myriads. At last he
was in love with his rocks and his treeless little island, grown over
only with small thick plants exuding sticky resin. The distant views
repaid him for the poverty of the island, however. During afternoon
hours, when the air became very clear he could see the whole isthmus
covered with the richest vegetation. It seemed to Skavinski at such
times that he saw one gigantic garden,--bunches of cocoa, and enormous
musa, combined as it were in luxurious tufted bouquets, right there
behind the houses of Aspinwall. Farther on, between Aspinwall and
Panama, was a great forest over which every morning and evening hung a
reddish haze of exhalations,--a real tropical forest with its feet in
stagnant water, interlaced with lianas and filled with the sound of one
sea of gigantic orchids, palms, milk-trees, iron-trees, gum-trees.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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