V

(I)

He awoke suddenly, at some movement, and for an instant did not
remember where he was.

For nearly a week they had stayed on at Versailles; and each day
that had passed had done its share in making this fairyland seem
more like a reality. But that strange subconscious self of his,
for which even now there seemed no accounting, was still
obstinate; it still assured him that the world ought not to be
like this, that religion ought not to be so concrete and
effective--that he would awake soon and find himself in some
desolate state of affairs where Faith, hemmed in by enemies,
still fought for very life against irresistible odds. It was at
night and at morning that the mood came on him most forcibly;
when instinct, free from facts, and ranging clear of the will's
dominion, asserted itself most strongly, and as he awoke this
night it was on him again.

He looked round the dark little room with bewildered eyes; then
he fumbled with a button, and all was flooded with light.

He was lying in a little spring-bed, set within two padded sides,
like a berth in a steamship. And beside him was the closed bureau
which he perceived to be washing arrangements in disguise;
overhead protruded a broad shelf; on the wall, above a little
couch, hung silk curtains over a window; and, as they swayed
slightly with some movement he caught sight of glass beyond. On
the door, at the foot of his bed, hung his cassock, and the
purple cincture that lay across it recalled him to at least a
part of the facts. The cabin was upholstered and painted in clean
white, and an electric globe emerged from the ceiling.

He was next conscious of cold, and instinctively leaned forward to
draw the quilt farther over his knees. Then, with a flash, he
remembered, and, in spite of the cold, was out of bed in a moment,
kneeling on the couch and peering out through the curtains.

At first he could see nothing at all. There was but an
unfathomable gulf beyond the glass. He stood up on the couch, and
drawing the curtains behind his head to shut out the light, he
once more stared out. Then he began to see.

At first he could see nothing at all. There was but an unfathomable
gulf beyond the glass. He stood up on the couch, and drawing the
curtains behind his head to shut out the light, he once more stared
out. Then he began to see.

Immediately opposite him glimmered a huge white outline--in the
incalculable night it might be a hundred yards or a