Share page |
346 A PICTURE FROM THE FORTRESS WALL |
||
and breast; and the bad chained man looks at him : a milder expression comes into the criminal's hard face; in his breast there swells up a thought—a thought he himself cannot rightly analyse ; but the thought has to do with the sunbeam, with the scent of violets which grow luxuriantly in spring at the foot of the wall. Now the |
||
![]() |
||
horns of the hunters sound merry and full. The little bird flies away from the prisoner's grating; the sunbeam vanishes, and again it is dark in the room, and dark in the heart of the bad man; but still the sun has shone into that heart, and the twittering of the bird has touched it!
Sound on, ye glorious strains of the hunting-horns ! The evening is mild, the sea is smooth as a mirror and calm. |
||