"What does he always come here for?" thought Yourii, surprised and
curious.
Seated by the fire, Kousma was telling a story, laughing and
gesticulating meanwhile. Sanine was laughing, too. The fire burned with
a slender flame, as that of a taper, the light being rosy, not red as
at night-time, while overhead, in the blue dome of heaven, the first
stars glittered. There was an odour of fresh mould and rain-drenched
grass.
For some reason or other Yourii felt afraid lest they should see him,
yet at the same time it saddened him to think that he could not join
them. Between himself and them there seemed to be a barrier
incomprehensible and yet unreal; a space devoid of atmosphere, a gulf
that could never be bridged.
This sense of utter isolation depressed him greatly. He was alone; from
this world with its vesper lights and hues, and fires, and stars, and
human sounds, he stood aloof and apart, as though shut close within a
dark room. So distressful was this sense of solitude, that as he
crossed the melon-field where hundreds of melons were growing in the
gloom, to him they seemed like human skulls that Jay strewn upon the
ground.
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