rong-chinned one,
all but that thick, closely cut, low-growing head of dark hair.

She glanced at Mr. Welles, and was surprised to find that he was looking
neither at the people nor the plant. His arm was around his favorite
Paul, but his gaze seemed turned inward, as though he were thinking of
something very far away. He looked tired and old, it seemed to her, and
without that quietly shining aspect of peace which she found so
touching. Perhaps he was tired. Perhaps she ought not to have brought
him out, this evening, for that long walk over rough country roads. How
much older he was than his real age in years! His life had used him up.
There must have been some inner maladjustment in it!

There was a little stir in the company, a small inarticulate sound from
Elly. Marise saw everyone's eyes turn to the center of the room and
looked back to the plant. The big pink bud was beginning visibly to
swell.

A silence came into the room. No one coughed, or stirred, or scraped a
chair-leg. It was as though a sound would have wounded the flower. All
those human souls bowed themselves. Almost a light shone upon them . . . a
phrase from Dante came to Marise's mind . . . "_la mia menta fu percossa
da un fulgore_ . . ."

With a quick involuntary turn she looked at Marsh, fearing his mockery
of her, "quoting the _Paradiso_, about Vermont farmers!" as though he
could know, for all those sharp eyes of his, what was going on hidden in
her mind!

All this came and went in an instant, for she now saw that one big,
shining petal was slowly, slowly, but quite visibly uncurling at the
tip. From that moment on, she saw nothing, felt nothing but the opening
flower, lived only in the incredibly leisurely, masterful motion with
which the grotesquely shaped protecting petals curled themselves back
from the center. Their motion was so slow that the mind was lost in
dreaminess in following it. Had that last one moved? No, it stood still,
poised breathlessly . . . and yet, there before them, revealed, exultant,
the starry heart of the great flower shimmered in the lamp-light.

* * * * *

Then she realized that she had not breathed. She drew in a great
marveling aspiration, and heard everyone about her do the same. They
turned to each other with inarticulate exclamations, shaking their heads
wonderingly, their lips a little apart as they drew long breaths.

Two very old women, rubbing their age-dimmed eyes, st