Then came a breath of over-powering sweetness from some secret
thicket, and something was struck from the feet of the bearers that
was like white pumice gravel. St. George no longer looked downward;
the plain and the waste of the sea were in a forgotten limbo, and he
searched eagerly on high for the first rays of the light that marked
the goal of his longing.
Yet he was unprepared when, swerving sharply and skirting an immense
shoulder of rock, Jarvo suddenly emerged upon a broad retaining wall
of stone bordering a smooth, moon-lit terrace extending by shallow
flights of steps to the white doors of the king's palace itself.
As St. George and Amory freed themselves and sprang to their feet
their eyes were drawn to a glory of light shining over the low
parapet which surrounded the terrace.
"Look," cried St. George victoriously, "the moon!"
From the sea the moon was momently growing, like a giant bubble, and
a bright path had issued to the mountain's foot. "See," she would
doubtless have said if she could, "I would have shown you the way
here all your life if only you had looked properly.
Pages:
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308