Opposite them were tiled roofs and an enormous rectangle of blue shadow, perforated by the sharp-pointed stars.

The city lights were coloring the shadowy space with a bloody reflection.
Tchernoff drank two glasses, testifying to the excellence of the liquid by smacking his lips.

The three were silent with the wondering and thoughtful silence which the grandeur of the night imposes.

Their eyes were glancing from star to star, grouping them in fanciful lines, forming them into triangles or squares of varying irregularity.

At times, the twinkling radiance of a heavenly body appeared to broaden the rays of light, almost hypnotizing them.
The Russian, without coming out of his revery, availed himself of another glass.