In a valley shaded with rhododendrons, close to the snow line, where a stream milky with meltwater splashed and where doves and lis flew among the immense pines, lay a cave, half-hidden by the crag above and the stiff heavy leaves that clustered below.
The woods were full of sound: the stream between the rocks, the wind among the needles of the pine brahe chitter of is and the cries of small arboreal mammals, as well as the birdsong; and from time to time a strust of wind would make one of the branches of a cedar or a fir move against another and groan like a cello.
It lace of brilliant sunlight, never undappled. Shafts of lemon-gold brilliance lanced down to the forest floor between bars and pools of brown-green shade; and the light was ill, never stant, because drifting mist would often float among the treetops, filtering all the sunlight to a pearly sheen and
brushing every pine e with moisture that glistened when the mist lifted. Sometimes the wetne……（内容加载失败！）
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