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THE LIGHTHOUSECam’s foot, over anybody’s foot. One sat andwatched it.But whose foot was he thinking of, and in whatgarden did all this happen? For one had settingsfor these scenes; trees that camegrewthere; flowers[%]there; a certain light; a few figures. Everythingtended to set itself in a garden;[%]where[∧]there was noneof this gloom. None of this throwing of handsabout; people spoke in an ordinary tone of voice.They went in and out all day long. There was anold woman gossiping in the kitchen; and theblinds were sucked in and out by the breeze; allwas blowing, all was growing; and over all thoseplates and bowls and tall brandishing red andyellow flowers a very thin yellow veil would bedrawn, like a vine leaf, at night. Things becametendererstillerand darker at night. But the leaf—likeveil was so fine, so thin[%]that lights lifted it, voicescrinkled it; he could see through it a figurestooping, hear, coming close, going away, somedress rustling, some chain tinkling.It was in this world that the wheel went over thegal72HB: Black pencil with line to margin indicating galley 72.person's foot. Something, he remembered, stayedand darkened over him; would not move; some-thing flourished up in the air, something arid andsharp descended even there, like a blade, a scimitar,smiting through the leaves and flowers even ofthat happy world and making it shrivel and fall.285
