In one place a
bit of the fur coat touched my cheek softly, but no forgiving hand
came to rest on my bowed head. I only breathed deeply the faint
scent of violets, her own particular fragrance enveloping my body,
penetrating my very heart with an inconceivable intimacy, bringing
me closer to her than the closest embrace, and yet so subtle that I
sensed her existence in me only as a great, glowing, indeterminate
tenderness, something like the evening light disclosing after the
white passion of the day infinite depths in the colours of the sky
and an unsuspected soul of peace in the protean forms of life. I
had not known such quietness for months; and I detected in myself
an immense fatigue, a longing to remain where I was without
changing my position to the end of time. Indeed to remain seemed
to me a complete solution for all the problems that life presents--
even as to the very death itself.
Only the unwelcome reflection that this was impossible made me get
up at last with a sigh of deep grief at the end of the dream. But
I got up without despair. She didn't murmur, she didn't stir.
There was something august in the stillness of the room. It was a
strange peace which she shared with me in this unexpected shelter
full of disorder in its neglected splendour.
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