Among the sails appeared every afternoon gigantic grayish feather-like
plumes of smoke. That was a steamer from New York which brought
passengers and goods to Aspinwall, drawing behind it a frothy path of
foam. On the other side of the balcony Skavinski saw, as if on his palm,
Aspinwall and its busy harbor, and in it a forest of masts, boats, and
craft; a little farther, white houses and the towers of the town. From
the height of his tower the small houses were like the nests of sea-
mews, the boats were like beetles, and the people moved around like
small points on the white stone boulevard. From early morning a light
eastern breeze brought a confused hum of human life, above which
predominated the whistle of steamers. In the afternoon six o'clock came;
the movement in the harbor began to cease; the mews hid themselves in
the rents of the cliffs; the waves grew feeble and became in some sort
lazy; and then on the land, on the sea, and on the tower came a time of
stillness unbroken by anything. The yellow sands from which the waves
had fallen back glittered like golden stripes on the width of the
waters; the body of the tower was outlined definitely in blue. Floods of
sunbeams were poured from the sky on the water and the sands and the
cliff. At that time a certain lassitude full of sweetness seized the old
man. He felt that the rest which he was enjoying was excellent; and when
he thought that it would be continuous nothing was lacking to him.

Skavinski was intoxicated with his own happiness; and since a man adapts
himself easily to improved conditions, he gained faith and confidence by
degrees; for he thought that if men built houses for invalids, why
should not God gather up at last His own invalids? Time passed, and
confirmed him in this conviction. The old man grew accustomed to his
tower, to the lantern, to the rock, to the sand-bars, to solitude. He
grew accustomed also to the sea-mews which hatched in the crevices of
the rock, and in the evening held meetings on the roof of the light-