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Far off are the cling-clang-cling of chimes and the swell-and-fall murmur of a multitude en fete, so that subtly you feel the gray old town, with its walls, the crowded marketplace, the decent peasant crowd, the booths, the mellow church building with its bells, the warm, dust-moted sun.
His daughter lay before him, still, lifeless. Deliberately he rested his chin on his hands and contemplated her. The room, as always, was full of contrast; shafts of light, dust-moted, bewildering, crossed from the embrasured windows, throwing high-lights into prominence and shadows into impenetrable darkness.
In that sharing he could see the reason for them, the reason for their strange bitter-sweet effects on the human soul. One evening he leaned on the corral fence, looking toward the Dragoons. The sun had set behind them. Gigantic they loomed against the western light. From their summits, like an aureola, radiated the splendour of the dust-moted air, this evening a deep umber.
His daughter lay before him, still, lifeless. Deliberately he rested his chin on his hands and contemplated her. The room, as always, was full of contrast; shafts of light, dust-moted, bewildering, crossed from the embrasured windows, throwing high-lights into prominence and shadows into impenetrable darkness.
Breezes had begun to play across the desert; the wind devils to raise their straight columns. A first long shaft of sunlight shot through a pass in the Chiricahuas, trembled in the dust-moted air, and laid its warmth on the rawhide. Senor Johnson roused himself from his gloom to speak his first words of the episode. "There, damn you!" said he. "I guess you'll be close enough together now!"
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