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(4)

think, surely they must cease. Whatever else may perish and
disappear, what lies here is steadfast. Here, one might say
to those sliding lights on the ceiling, those grey airs of mid-
night that bend over the bed itself, here you can neigther touch
nor destroy. Upon which, wearily, ghostlily, as if they had
feather-light fingers and the light persistency of feathers,
they would look, once, on the shut eyes, and the loosely
clasping fingers, and fold their garments, wearily, and disappear.
      They took themselves off now (but after all it would soon be
winter) to the window on the staircase, which they rubbed and
fumbled; shook a wandering light upstairs in the servants'
bedrooms among boxes in the attics; descended to ripple the
cloaks outside the dining room; to meditate among the apples on
the table, to blanch and nibble their redness and hardness, -
how could one tarnish them? - Nnext reached the roses in the jar
and tried there too, with their vapid fumbling, how petal could
be nipped from petal, the stalk swollen, and the pallor stained,
tried the picture on the easel and brushed the mat and blew a
little sand along the floor.
      At last, desisting, like spies called back to the army
they gathered in the middle of the hall. All ceased together;
all sighed together; all together gave off an aimless gust of
lamentation to which some door in the kitchen replied; swung
wide; it admitted nothing; banged to. There was silence.
      Then as if to refresh the failing powers of destruction,

 


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