ost my way, for as yet I had
passed no sign of human habitation. But that light was sufficient.
Gomez had told me of it. It was the light which burned always, from
dusk to morning, from the tower of the monastery of St. Bernard.

* * * * *

Two things seemed strange to me, or rather seem strange to me now,
when I look back upon that walk. The first was my utter indifference
to all physical pain. There was a hole in my boot, and I found
afterwards that my foot must have been bleeding most of the time. I
never felt it. I was conscious of neither pain nor fatigue. The second
thing which surprises me is that, as I drew near to my journey's end,
I grew calmer. I had no desire to draw back. I had no fear. The thing
which was before me never assumed any definite shape! It was there--in
the background--a dim, floating purpose, never once oppressing
me, never forcing its way forward in my mind for more definite
consideration, and only showing itself at all in a vague, lurid
glow which seemed to change even the shapes of all the gruesome
surroundings of my dismal walk. Towards the end of my expedition this
became even more marked. My thoughts had recoiled from the present to
the past. Vague pictures of the days that had gone by seemed floating
before my eyes. I saw myself in the convent garden, with all my little
world enclosed in those four walls, and I heard the shrill laughter
of the girls with whom I was walking, and I even fancied that I could
catch the perfume of the lilac trees which drooped over the smoothly
kept lawn. And then the picture faded away, and from the vessel's side
I saw Cruta, a purple-topped island rising like some precious jewel
from the sea! I shuddered at the memory of that face, which soon
became a living dread to me, and I heard again the passionate voice
of a dark-robed man reading poetry, and crushing with white, nervous
fingers the hyacinths whose odour was making the air faint. I saw his
white, sad face, in which the struggle of the man against himself was
already born--born, alas! in those long mornings by the sea, at my
unconscious bidding! And soon Cruta, too, faded away, and you, Paul,
my love, my dear, dear love, your face came to me. Almost my eyes
closed, almost I stayed here to dream. Ah! how the magic of this love,
this wonderful love, lightens my little world! My heart is stirred to
music, my blood is dancing. I am chilled no longer. Ah! Paul, it is
for yo