Ten o'clock.
The rain had ceased, but it is still warm. I sit looking out of the cave,
and listening to the bend and whisper of the trees. Then a stone breaks
loose on the fjeld opposite; it butts against a rock and brings that down
as well; a few faint thuds are heard. Then a rumble: I see what is
happening, and the sound echoes within me; the rock loosened other rocks,
an avalanche goes thundering down the mountain-side, snow and earth and
boulders, leaving a smoky cloud in its wake. The stream of rubble seems in
a living rage; it thrusts its way on, tearing down other masses with it--
crowding, pouring, pouring, fills up a chasm in the valley--and stops. The
last few boulders settle slowly into place, and then no more. The thunder
over, there is silence, and within myself is only a breathing as of a
slowly descending bass.
And so I sit once more, listening to the soughing of the woods. Is it the
heaving of the AEgean sea, or is it the ocean current Glimma? I grow weak
from just listening.
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