to
walk. The buoyant, almost intolerable, unbearable sense of elation
within me seemed pressing me forward without volition.

The incident just passed, the woman's hand on mine, the woman's words,
though from her they were nothing to me, had yet touched and unlocked
those impulses which, until now, had been so sternly repressed, barred
down, sepulchred and sealed. They rose upwards, and with an exultant
triumph I remembered I was free now to live and to love. My work was
done, honourably and faithfully accomplished.

Thirty months lay behind me, an unblemished scroll in time, recording
one unbroken stretch of labour, suffering, and repression. And now it
was over, and I was at liberty. An unspeakable animation swelled in me;
and through all the excited, burning frame seemed to run living fire
that formed one thought in my brain, one loved word on my lips--Lucia!
Like two planets, at the end of each dark street I turned, I seemed to
see her eyes. To her, to her my feet seemed carrying me. I was only
returning to my empty room, but no matter! A few days more and then
England and Lucia!

I was glad now of everything I had suffered, every emotion repressed,
every weakness vanquished. Strange, wonderful power that lies in that
slight, grey tissue which we call brain! It seemed hardly credible that
this buoyant sense of exultation, this overflowing, stupendous joy of
gratified pride and ambition, this triumphant pleasure in my own powers
and their recognition at last, these brilliant vistas that opened in my
thoughts, could come from the movements of a little matter with a
little blood flowing through it. And yet, so soon, a few years and I,
who seemed now like some eternal being carried through worlds of space
and endless cycles of years, should be--nothing. Well, no matter; I
lived now and Lucia lived!

The street was quite empty, and, half unconsciously, I began to sing
the song Bella Napoli, always a favourite of mine, for the sake of the
refrain, Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia! The notes echoed down the silent
street as the words flowed from my tongue in the intoxication of
pleasure--pure, simple, single, undiluted pleasure of the relief after
those weary months of strain. The ground beneath my feet seemed buoyant
air, each pulse within me beat with keen life, and the name of the
woman I loved formed itself again and again on my lips, fluttered and
lingered there, almost like the touch of a pure and invisible kiss.