midnight
The earth , like a cup held in the hand of a god , brimmed with the draught of youth and summer and -- love ? But no , for me the very word was sinister . Vanna 's face , immutably calm , confronted it . That night I slept in a boat at Sopor , and I remember that , waking at midnight , I looked out and saw a mountain with a gloriole of hazy silver about it , misty and faint as a cobweb threaded with dew . The river , there spreading into a lake , was dark under it , flowing in a deep smooth blackness of shadow , and everything awaited -- what ? And even while I looked , the moon floated serenely above the peak , and all was bathed in pure light , the water rippling and shining in broken silver and pearl . So had Vanna floated into my sky , luminous , sweet , remote .