Presently the red light in the tower softened into white. Two of the Italian towers grew paler, the other two retaining their brilliancy. Ryan was putting on his colors like a painter, one over another. We made our way back to the Marina, where the scintillators were soon to blaze. Before we arrived they informed us of their presence by the great feathered fan, of many colors, that rose into the sky. "There was some opposition to the decorating of the Tower with jewels. The architects with conservative ideas very naturally felt that architecture which depended on its lines for beauty didn't need that kind of ornament. But Ryan has unquestionably justified himself. The feature has been talked about throughout the country more than any other. See how the light falls on the tower like a great shimmering robe. It gains by the contrast it makes with the subdued lighting beneath." The group on the Column of Progress stood out against the sky. The doorways were taking on the color of gold, becoming even more beautiful than they had been by day. "What Ryan tried hardest to get," said the architect, "was evenness of lighting. He wanted to bring out clearly the details of the architecture and he succeeded." XVIII The Illuminating and the Reflections That motionless steam engine, all in gray, harmonizing with the Travertine, was furiously at work. Into the air it sent clouds of steam that turned to red and blue and green under Ryan's magic. And up there, at the top of the Column of Progress, we saw the Adventurous Bowman and his companions in two groups, one reflected on the illuminated fog. Through the smoke and the fog the bombs were shooting and breaking into great masses of liquid fire, golden and green and pink and yellow. "Someone says we're all children at heart," the architect remarked. "These fireworks get more attention than all the architecture and the art put together. But, after all, they're just about as beautiful as anything man can make and, in the way of color, they put the artists to shame." We were part of the crowd that swept to the Court of the Universe, never so splendid as at night, with the columns reflected in the pool and Calder's star figures shining from the concealed electric bulbs. On reaching the court itself we stood at the end of one of the corridors and looked down. Great drops of light hung on the columns like molten gold. "Ryan has done something very artistic and unusual there," the architect remarked. "So far as I know nothing just like it has ever been done before. It suggests the tongues of fire mentioned in the Scripture that descended from Heaven."