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Then the gay tumult of the fifteen minutes of intermission between the parts, when all rose with a susurrus of innumerable silks, and the thousands of pretty singers fluttered about, and gossiped tremulously and delightedly over the glory of the performance, revealing themselves as charming feminine personalities, each with her share in the difficulty and the achievement, each with her pique or pride, and each her something to tell her friend of the conduct, agreeable or displeasing, of some particular him!
A sound came to us, reaching out like the first faint susurrus of the incoming tide; sighing, sighing, growing stronger now its mournful whispering quivered all about us, shook us then passing like a Presence, died away in far distances. "The Portal!" said Rador. "Lugur has entered!" He, too, parted the fronds and peered back along our path.
In the background, the susurrus of the air jets rose slightly to the soft lullaby-sound that the wheel would always sing as she rolled.
For he also has had no candles and no cigars; and he well knows, that before the sun looks into his portals, all his halls will be overflowing and buzzing with the matin susurrus of courtiers the "mane salutantes." it is as much as his popularity is worth to absent himself, or to keep people waiting. But surely, the reader may think, this poor man he might keep waiting.
A light south wind woke the voices of every bough above, and the melancholy susurrus rose and fell in delicate cadences; while beyond the green meadow, Westbury River, a good-sized brook, babbled and danced as if there were no pine-tree laments in the world.
There certainly must have been lots of vodka at that party last night. Party? What party? It was difficult to separate various concepts and orient herself to a present where and when. Slowly the soft susurrus background song of the big wheel penetrated consciousness, and another, closer roar. Millie taking a shower, she realized.
The contagion of suspense was in the air, you seemed to catch it in the faint susurrus of the poplars. "Shall we get to Calais?" I asked. "Bon Dieu! I know not," was the reply of the harassed guard. We pursued our stealthy journey, reached Abbeville somewhere about midnight, and Boulogne in the small hours. 4 A.M. Calais at last! I joyfully exclaimed.
Through his awakening senses stole the murmurs of the living cradle which rocked him with the wavelike movements of respiration, the soft susurrus of the air that entered with every breath, the double beat of the heart which throbbed close to his ear.
The gilt clock in its glass sepulchre on the mantelpiece ticked off the seconds as loudly as a cricket on the hearth in the stillness of the night. The maire speculated with more curiosity than fear as to how many more of these seconds he had to live. Never had the intervals seemed so long nor their registration so insistent. The ashes fell with a soft susurrus in the grate.
The air hummed delicately, hummed with an alien element, hummed with something that was neither the susurrus of insects nor the music of birds. He moved onward slowly and quietly. The hum grew and strengthened. It became a sound. It divided into component parts, whistlings, trillings, twitterings, callings. Bird-like they were but they could come only from the human throat.
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