This preview shows page 1. Sign up to view the full content.
Unformatted text preview: and brought it into vivid and beauteous color. The saint was filled with quiet fire. The saint smiled down upon me, his dark eyes burning in the glass, his lips pink, his robes red. I knew it was the trick of the sunrise, yet I could not take my eyes from it. An immense peace filled me. I thought of my mother's horror-stricken face, her screaming, echo- ing in the little chamber. I saw the great kindred of the Clan of Don- nelaith scurrying away from me like so many black rats! "Be the saint!" said the priest to me in a whisper. And there in that moment the vow made itself clear to me, though I did not have the courage to speak the words. I gazed at the window. I took the details of the saint to my heart. I saw that he stood barefoot upon the prone bodies of the little people . . . the Ganfers, the Sluagh, the Demons of Hell. And behold, in his hand he held a staff, and the foot of the staff pierced the body of the Devil. I studied the well-drawn bodies of the dwarf people. I heard my heart. The light had now swelled against the window so that the brighter colors had begun to glow. The saint was made of jewels! A shimmering vision of sparkling gold, and deepest blue and ruby red,...
View Full Document
This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10