Fire from Heaven [antikvár]

The child was wakened by the knotting of the snake's coils abouthis waist. For a moment he was frightened; it had squeezed hisbreathing, and given him a bad dream. But as soon as he was awake,he knew what it was, and pushed his two hands inside the coil. Itshifted; the strong band under his back bunched tightly, then grewthin. The head slid up his shoulder along his neck, and he felt closeto his ear the flickering tongue.The old-fashioned nursery lamp, painted with boys bowling hoopsand watching cockfights, burned low on its stand. The dusk haddied in which he had fallen asleep; only a cold sharp moonlightstruck down through the tall window, patching the yellow marblefloor with blue. He pushed down his blanket to see the snake, andmake sure it was the right one. His mother had told him that thepatterned ones, with backs like woven border-work, must always belet alone. But all was well; it was the pale brown one with the greybelly, smooth as polished enamel.When he turned four, nearly a year ago, he had been given aboy's bed five feet long; but the legs were short in case he fell, andthe snake had not had far to climb. Everyone else in the room wasfast asleep; his sister Kleopatra in her cradle beside the Spartannurse; nearer, in a better bed of carved pearwood, his own nurse