"How nice!" "Isn't it lovely?" said
several girls
"Isn't that glorious?" said Miss Tevkin. "It's one of the most
exquisite sunsets I have seen in a long time." And she referred to
certain "effects," apparently in the work of a well-known
landscape painter, which I did not understand
I discovered a note of consciousness in her rapture, something like
a patronizing approval of the sky by one who looked at it with a
professional eye. Nevertheless, I felt that my poor soul was
cringing before her
An epigram occurred to me, something about the discrepancy
between the spiritual quality of the sunset and the after-supper
satisfaction of the onlookers. I essayed to express it, but was so
embarrassed that I made a muddle of my English. Miss Tevkin
took no notice of the remark
The sunset was transformed into a thousand lumps of pearl, here
and there edged with flame. In some places the pearl thinned
away, dissolving into the color of the sky, while the outline of the
lump remained--a map of glowing tracery on a ground of the
subtlest blue.
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