and then in the woods; tiny villages sent up white spires and suggestions of roofs. The only moving things in sight were the two eagles, soaring high, but their flight, calm as the mountain itself, steady, swift, circling, mounting ever higher in great spirals, and as ever on motionless, widespread pinions, was even strangely restful with its suggestion of effortless, limitless power.
The atmosphere was translucently brilliant, as if poured out like molten gold. And the infinite quiet! The resting watcher seemed to bathe in it as in a waveless ocean of utter tranquillity. His soul rested against it. His mind drifted out on it. . . His eyes dwelt on the everlasting hills. In that sea of stillness his musings trailed away into vague thoughts that did not rise into words. So utterly, marvellously still! What was the quality that made the silence of mountains and of deserts so mysteriously different from other silences? He absently realized that even miles away from any great city, although to the outer ear there may be no
