Chapter 43

           RobertJordanlaybehindthetrunkofapinetreeontheslopeofthehillabovetheroadandthebridgeandwatcheditbecomedaylight.Helovedthishourofthedayalwaysandnowhewatchedit;feelingitgraywithinhim,asthoughhewereapartoftheslowlighteningthatcomesbeforetherisingofthesun;whensolidthingsdarkenandspacelightensandthelightsthathaveshoneinthenightgoyellowandthenfadeasthedaycomes.Thepinetrunksbelowhimwerehardandclearnow,theirtrunkssolidandbrownandtheroadwasshinywithawispofmistoverit.Thedewhadwethimandtheforestfloorwassoftandhefeltthegiveofthebrown,droppedpineneedlesunderhiselbows.Belowhesaw,throughthelightmistthatrosefromthestreambed,thesteelofthebridge,straightandrigidacrossthegap,withthewoodensentryboxesateachend.Butashelookedthestructureofthebridgewasstillspideryandfineinthemistthathungoverthestream.

           Hesawthesentrynowinhisboxashestood,hisbackwiththehangingblanketcoattoppedbythesteelcasqueonhisheadshowingasheleanedforwardoverthehole-punchedpetroltinofthebrazier,warminghishands.RobertJordanheardthestream,fardownintherocks,andhesawafaint,thinsmokethatrosefromthesentrybox.

           Helookedathiswatchandthought,IwonderifAndrésgotthroughtoGolz?IfwearegoingtoblowitIwouldliketobreatheveryslowlyandslowupthetimeagainandfeelit.

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