Page:The Way of the Cross, Doroshevich, tr. Graham, 1916.djvu/74



T is getting colder and colder.

The golden and rose and flame colours of sunset have played themselves out on the cloudless pale green sky.

On the left, over the forest, like a phantom, is seen the pale fine sickle of the new moon.

From the marsh and from the little river over which we pass comes an icy breath.

There are mists in the low-lying places.

Everywhere it becomes darker and darker.

The moon's sickle is getting all yellow, all clear, more and more full of light.