That done I crept under the shelter of a
projecting rock, wrapped my cloak tightly about me, and lay down upon the
hard ground to rest, for I was very weary.
Lying there I watched the colour fading from the sky. I saw the purple
lights in the east turn to an orange that paled into faintest yellow, and
this again into turquoise. The shadows crept up those heights. A star
came out overhead, then another, then a score of stars to sparkle silvery
in the blue-black heavens.
I turned on my side, and closed my eyes, seeking to sleep; and then quite
suddenly I heard a sound of unutterable sweetness--a melody so faint and
subtle that it had none of the form and rhythm of earthly music. I sat up,
my breath almost arrested, and listened more intently. I could still hear
it, but very faint and distant. It was as a sound of silver bells, and yet
it was not quite that. I remembered the stories I had heard that day in
the tavern at Pojetta, and the talk of the mystic melodies by which
travellers had been drawn to the anchorite's abode. I noted the direction
of the sound, and I determined to be guided by it, and to cast myself at
the feet of that holy man, to implore of him who could heal bodies the
miracle of my soul's healing and my mind's purging from its torment.
I pushed on, then, through the luminous night, keeping as much as possible
to the open, for under trees lesser obstacles were not to be discerned.
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