The air was fairly warm. The place quite dry. The open side looked
westward and a little south.
The sun had now set behind the Apennines, and there was a deep
effulgence in the sky. I drank a little wine, lit a pipe, and watched
the west in silence.
Whatever was left of the great pall from which all that rain had
fallen, now was banked up on the further side of heaven in toppling
great clouds that caught the full glow of evening.
The great clouds stood up in heaven, separate, like persons; and no
wind blew; but everything was full of evening. I worshipped them so
far as it is permitted to worship inanimate things.
They domed into the pure light of the higher air, inviolable. They
seemed halted in the presence of a commanding majesty who ranked them
all in order.
This vision filled me with a large calm which a travelled man may find
on coming to his home, or a learner in the communion of wise men.
Repose, certitude, and, as it were, a premonition of glory occupied my
spirit. Before it was yet quite dark I had made a bed out of the dry
bracken, covered myself with the sacks and cloths, and very soon I
fell asleep, still thinking of the shapes of clouds and of the power
of God.
