Bianca looked long at the rain of moonlight falling on the earth’s carpet, like a covering shower of blossom which bees have sucked and spilled.  Then, below her, out through candescent space, she saw a shadow dart forth along the grass, and to her fright a voice rose, tremulous and clear, seeming to seek enfranchisement beyond the barrier of the dark trees:  “My brain is clouded.  Great Universe!  I cannot write!  I can no longer discover to my brothers that they are one.  I am not worthy to stay here.  Let me pass into You, and die!”

Bianca saw her father’s fragile arms stretch out into the night through the sleeves of his white garment, as though expecting to be received at once into the Universal Brotherhood of the thin air.

There ensued a moment, when, by magic, every little dissonance in all the town seemed blended into a harmony of silence, as it might be the very death of self upon the earth.

Then, breaking that trance, Mr. Stone’s voice rose again, trembling out into the night, as though blown through a reed.

“Brothers!” he said.

Behind the screen of lilac bushes at the gate Bianca saw the dark helmet of a policeman.  He stood there staring steadily in the direction of that voice.  Raising his lantern, he flashed it into every corner of the garden, searching for those who had been addressed.  Satisfied, apparently, that no one was there, he moved it to right and left, lowered it to the level of his breast, and walked slowly on.