423
In the great silence.—Here is the sea, here we may forget the town. Though its bells are still ringing the Angelus—that sad and foolish, yet sweet sound at the parting of day and night—only another minute ! Now all is hushed! There lies the broad ocean, pale and glittering, but it cannot speak. The sky is glistening in its eternal mute evening glory, in red, yellow, green hues; it cannot speak either. The small cliffs and crags, projecting into the sea—as though trying to find the most lonely spot—not any of them can speak. This intense mateness which suddenly overcomes us is beautiful and awful; it makes the heart swell. Oh, for the deceit of this dumb beauty! How kindly it could speak, and how maliciously too, if only it would ! Its tied tongue and its face of passive happiness is but malice, mocking at your sympathy. Be it so! I do not feel ashamed of being the sport of such powers ! But I pity thee, oh Nature, because thou art bound to silence, though it be only thy malice which ties thy tongue ; nay, I pity thee for the sake of thy malice! Alas ! their silence deepens, and once more my heart swells
301
