By breakfast-time all color had faded from the
sea--it was like silver passing on each side into gray; the sky was blue,
flecked with fleecy clouds; while, on the gentler slopes of the coast
opposite, fields and woods, and quarries and lines of stratification begin
to show themselves, though the cliffs are still in shadow, and the more
distant headlands still a mere succession of ghosts, each one fainter than
the one before it. As the morning advances the sea becomes blue, the dark
woods, green meadows, and golden cornfields of the opposite coast more
distinct, and the details of the cliffs come gradually into view, and
fishing-boats with dark sails begin to appear.
Gradually the sun rises higher, a yellow line of shore appears under the
opposite cliffs, and the sea changes its color, mapping itself out as it
were, the shallower parts turquoise blue, almost green; the deeper ones
deep violet.
This does not last long--a thunderstorm comes up. The wind mutters
overhead, the rain patters on the leaves, the coast opposite seems to
shrink into itself, as if it would fly from the storm.
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