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THE LIGHTHOUSE 215They went in and out all day long. There wasan old 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 becamestiller and darker at night. But the leaf-like veilwas so fine that lights lifted it, voices crinkledit; he could see through it a figure stooping, hear,coming close, going away, some dress rustling,some chain tinkling.

It was in this world that the wheel went overthe person’s foot. Something, he remembered,stayed and darkened over him; would not move;something flourished up in the air, something aridand sharp descended even there, like a blade, ascimitar, smiting through the leaves and flowerseven of that happy world and making them shriveland fall.

'It will rain,’ he remembered his father saying.'You won’t be able to go to the Lighthouse.'

The Lighthouse was then a silvery, misty-lookingtower with a yellow eye that opened suddenly andsoftly in the evening. Now—

James looked at the Lighthouse. He could seethe white-washed rocks; the tower, stark andstraight; he could see that it was barred with blackand white; he could see windows in it; he couldeven see washing spread on the rocks to dry. Sothat was the Lighthouse, was it?

No, the other was also the Lighthouse. For no-thing was simply one thing. The other was the