Excerpt from The Image in the Sand
The glory of the evening hour grew more and more vivid in ever-increasing crescendo of colour, even as a fugue played by some master-organist rises from climax to climax as bank after bank of out-drawn stops and keyboard coupled to keyboard makes the air thick with tumultuous melody. Then the supreme moment arrived, as the sun touched and began to sink behind the Libyan hills. Then in a second all was changed: rose and gold, blue and green, were sucked from land and sky, as if sinking sponge-like into the earth, and gray, the echo only of colour, but gray of all shades and hues, from the luminousness of sunlit mist to the dark brood ing gray of sea beneath thunder-cloud, took its place. A little cool wind awoke, and blew from the full-flowering ave nue of mimosas in the hotel garden, filling the air with thick ineflable fragrance; the song of birds in the bushes, the chattering of sparrows, the flute of the hoopoe, ceased; and the sudden night of the South fell in layer after rapid layer over the sky.
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