夜晚的孩子们
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他在一千英尺的高度改变飞行姿势。翼梢在狂风中噼啪直响,轮廓都模糊了;海鸥群斜着在他身旁掠过,疾如流星迸射。
That lay as if she slumbered in delight,
How perfectly recollected is that passage! Can we not hear the exclamation of some reader "Yes—those orange-trees! It was just like that when I was there!" How convinced we are of Conrad's unimpeachable veracity! How like him are those remembered details, "the nailed doors," "the fine stone hands," "at arm's-length"!—and can we not sniff something of the author's impatience to let himself go and tell us more about that "hammer-headed horse" of whose adventures with Don P閜? he must remember enough to fill a volume!
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