第24章

InatownofthesteppeswhereIfoundlifeexceedinglydull，thebestandthebrightestspotwasthecemetery。OftendidIusetowalkthere，andonceithappenedthatIfellasleeponsomethick，rich，sweet-smellinggrassinacradle-likehollowbetweentwotombs。

FromthatsleepIwasawakenedwiththesoundofblowsbeingstruckagainstthegroundnearmyhead。Theconcussionofthemjarredmenotalittle，astheearthquiveredandtinkledlikeabell。Raisingmyselftoasittingposture，Ifoundsleepstillsoheavyuponmethatatfirstmyeyesremainedblindedwithunfathomabledarkness，andcouldnotdiscernwhatthematterwas。TheonlythingthatIcouldseeamidthegoldenglareoftheJunesunlightwasawaveringblurwhichatintervalsseemedtoadheretoagreycross，andtomakeitgiveforthasuccessionofsoftcreaks。

Presently，however——againstmywish，indeed——thatwaveringblurresolveditselfintoalittle，elderlyman。Sharp-featured，withathick，silverytuftofhairbeneathhisunderlip，andabushywhitemoustachecurledinmilitaryfashion，onhisupper，hewasusingthecrossasameansofsupportas，withhisdisengagedhandoutstretched，andsawingtheair，hedughisfootrepeatedlyintotheground，and，ashedidso，bestoweduponmesundrydry，covertglancesfromthedepthsofapairofdarkeyes。

“Whathaveyougotthere？“Iinquired。

“Asnake，“herepliedinaneducatedbassvoice，andwitharuggedforefingerhepointeddownwards；whereuponIperceivedthatwrigglingonthepathathisfeetandconvulsivelywhiskingitstail，therewasanechidna。

“Oh，itisonlyagrassworm，“Isaidvexedly。

Theoldmanpushedawaythedull，iridescent，rope-likethingwiththetoeofhisboot，raisedastrawhatinsalute，andstrodefirmlyonwards。

“Ithankyou，“Icalledout；whereupon，herepliedwithoutlookingbehindhim:

“IfthethingreallyWASagrassworm，ofcoursetherewasnodanger。“

Thenhedisappearedamongthetombstones。

Lookingatthesky，Iperceivedthetimetobeaboutfiveo’clock。

Thesteppewindwassighingoverthetombs，andcausinglongstemsofgrasstorocktoandfro，andfreightingtheheatedairwiththesilkenrustlingofbirchesandlimesandothertrees，andleadingonetodetectamidthehummingofsummeranoteofquietgriefeminentlycalculatedtoevokelofty，directthoughtsconcerninglifeandone’sfellow-men。

Veilingwithgreenery，greyandwhitetombstoneswornwiththesnowsofwinter，crossesstreakedwithmarksofrain，andthewallwithwhichthegraveyardwasencircled，therankvegetationservedtoalsoconcealthepropinquityofaslovenly，clamoroustownwhichlaycoatedwithrich，sootygrimeamidanatmosphereofdustandsmells。

AsIsetoffforarambleamongthetombsandtangledgrass，I

coulddiscernthroughopeningsinthecurtainofverdureabelfry’sgildedcrosswhichreareditselfsolemnlyovercrossesandmemorials。Atthefootofthosememorialsthesacramentalvestmentofthecemeterywasstuddedwithakaleidoscopicsheenofflowersoverwhichbeesandwaspsweresohoveringandhummingthatthegrass’ssad，prayerfulmurmurseemedchargedwithasongoflifewhichyetdidnothinderreflectionsondeath。Flutteringabovemeonnoiselesswingwerebirdstheflightofwhichsometimesmademestart，andstandwonderingwhethertheobjectbeforemygazewasreallyabirdornot:andeverywheretheshimmerofgildedsunlightwassettingtheclose-packedgraveyardinaquiverwhichmadethemoundsofitstombsreminiscentofaseawhen，afterastorm，thewindhasfallen，andallthegreenlevelisanexpanseofsmooth，foamlessbillows。

Beyondthewallofthecemeterythebluevoidofthefirmamentwaspiercedwithsmokychimneysofoil-millsandsoapfactor

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