He stared at the canvas in a meditation so profound that it was probably unconscious of itself.
The light from above his head slanted more and more toward the east.
Once he arose and lighted a pipe.

He returned to the easel and stood staring with his hands in his pockets.

He moved like one in a sleep.
Suddenly the gleam shot into his eyes again.

He dropped to the stool and grabbed a brush.

At the end of a certain long, tumultuous period he clinched his pipe more firmly in his teeth and puffed strongly.