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The aged man was walking about in his solitary yard, humming a

song, "When the early dawn ariseth,"123 and was happy because the

weather was clearing; the mist was not rising up as it usually

does when clouds are gathering, but kept falling: the wind spread

forth its palms and stroked the mist, smoothed it, and spread it

on the meadow; meanwhile the sun from on high with a thousand

beams pierced the web, silvered it, gilded it, made it rosy. As

when a pair of workmen at Sluck are making a Polish girdle; a

girl at the base of the loom smooths and presses the web with her

hands, while the weaver throws her from above threads of silver,

gold and purple, forming colours and flowers: thus to-day the

wind spread all the earth with mist and the sun embroidered it.