Волны

           Thatwascommensuratewithhisrespectfordiscipline.Hencehissuccess,finally.Hislife,though,wasnothappy.Butlook--hiseyeturnswhiteasheliesinthepalmofmyhand.Suddenlythesenseofwhatpeopleareleavesone.Ireturnhimtothepoolwherehewillacquirelustre.

           ’Nevillenext--lyingonhisbackstaringupatthesummersky.Hefloatedamonguslikeapieceofthistledown,indolentlyhauntingthesunnycorneroftheplaying-field,notlistening,yetnotremote.ItwasthroughhimthatIhavenosedroundwithouteverpreciselytouchingtheLatinclassicsandhavealsoderivedsomeofthosepersistenthabitsofthoughtwhichmakeusirredeemablylop-sided--forinstanceaboutcrucifixes,thattheyarethemarkofthedevil.Ourhalf-lovesandhalf-hatesandambiguitiesonthesepointsweretohimindefensibletreacheries.TheswayingandsonorousDoctor,whomImadetositswinginghisbracesoveragas-fire,wastohimnothingbutaninstrumentoftheinquisition.SoheturnedwithapassionthatmadeupforhisindolenceuponCatullus,Horace,Lucretius,lyinglazilydormant,yes,butregardant,noticing,withrapture,cricketers,whilewithamindlikethetongueofanant-eater,rapid,dexterous,glutinous,hesearchedouteverycurlandtwistofthoseRomansentences,andsoughtoutoneperson,alwaysonepersontositbeside.

           ’Andthelongskirtsofthemasters’wiveswouldcomeswishingby,mountainous,menacing;andourhandswouldflytoourcaps.Andimmensedullnesswoulddescendunbroken,monotonous.Nothing,nothing,nothingbrokewithitsfinthatleadenwasteofwaters.