THE L1GHTHOUSECam’s foot, over anyb0dy’s foot. One sat andwatched it.

But whose foot was hc thinking of, and in whatgarden did all this happen? For one had settingsfor these scenes; trees that grew there; Howers;ra certain light; a few figures. Everything tendedto set itself in a garden where there was none ofthis gloom and none of this throwing of handsabout; people spoke in an ordinary tone of voice.They went in and out all day long. There was anold woman gossiping in the kitchen; and theblinds were sucked in and out by the breeze; allwas blowing, all was growing; and over all thoseplates and bowls and tall brandishing red andyellow flowers a very thin yellow veil would bedrawn, like a vine leaf, at night. Things becamestiller and darker at night. But the leaf-likeveil was so fine, that lights lifted it, voicescrinkled it; he could see through it a figurestoopin-g, hear, coming close, going away, somedress rustling, some chain tinkling.

It was in this world that the wheel went over theperson’s foot. Something, he remembered, stayedand darkened over him; would not move; something flourished up in the air, something arid andsharp descended even there, like a blade, a scimitar,smiting through the leaves and flowers even ofthat happy world and making them shrivel and fall.2 8 5

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