One by one they rose up and came to life.

He held out his hands, as if to fill them with the liquid glow; his heart beat faster in that glory of the moonrise.

The taunting murmur of the river changed once more into hopeful song, his fingers closed tightly around the bars, and the fighting spirit rose in him again.

As that spirit surged stronger, beating down his despair, driving the chaos out of his brain, he watched the moon as it climbed higher, changing from the red of the lower atmosphere to the yellow gold of the greater heights, marveling at the miracle of light and color that had never failed to stir him.
And then he laughed.

If Pelly or Carter had heard him, they would have wondered if he was mad.