of
vague surprise that he did not fall. He could not stop; an iron weight
upon his shoulders crushed him to the earth, but at the same time a
force against which he could not struggle drove him on. He became
possessed of the idea that again he was working in the mines, under the
overseer's lash; the sound of his horse's feet merged imperceptibly into
the tapping of the picks, hideously loud, and the maddening rhythm of
the sound pounded his brain into bruised torpor. Then he knew that he
was on fire; from head to foot he burned, parched as a soul in hell.
Balls of flame danced before his eyes; while he looked upon them they
turned to faces grinning from out a blood-red mist. The faces drew
closer and melted into one face, Varia's face, as he had seen it last,
white, with scarlet lips and flaming poppies upon either temple.

Then the mist in his eyes cleared suddenly, and he saw the figure below
the face, wreathed in a floating web of moonlight through which white
limbs gleamed, with dusky hair that streamed behind it in a cloud; saw
that it was flying from him upon a great white horse. And as it fled it
looked back at him with laughing eyes which yet were Varia's eyes; and
in its hand it bore a wan pale flame which was his soul, the essence of
the genius in him which was his life. At once he knew the figure to be
Life and Love, and all that men strive for and hold most dear; and all
his being leaped to the fierce desire for conquest, and he shouted in
triumph and pursued. But as fast as the good gray went, with ears laid
back and neck outstretched and body flattened to its desperate headlong
stride, that great white horse went faster, bearing ever just beyond his
reach the slim figure, veiled in misty moonbeams, that laughed into his
eyes yet fled from his embraces.

He laughed aloud in answer, caught up in the whirlwind of his furious
speed; heaven and earth held nothing but the divine frenzy of his
desire. Fire coursed through his veins; the chase was Life itself,
full-blooded, reckless, exultant and sublime, rioting gloriously with
untamed passion. He was a god, all-conquering in the fierce pride of his
lusty youth and strength; Life was his, and Love was his, if he could
seize them. Now the gray's head was at the white horse's shoulder; now
he bent forward, laughing his hot triumph into those eyes which were
Varia's eyes, his arm outstretched to grasp the mist-veiled figure that
leaned away from him, flying from hi