know at the very first step what mandate
to derive from the power animating him; before destroying he would have
built up. When a bird finds its cage open and takes flight, it does not
hesitate, it has the idea of space, it spreads its wings, it knows where
to fly, and how high.

I know nothing. I am setting out, that's all. Neither before nor behind
me is the irresistible urge which is the start of a great career. Nor do
I see close by the rising shape of my life. Nor about me is the ringing
mirth of faery liberty. Nothing but a little tiredness, a little
emptiness in my head, a little emptiness in my heart.... I am not a
strong person.

Good-bye, mother, good-bye to your transparent eyes, to your shoulders
which will always shrug for the wrong side, good-bye to your tender
lying.

You see, I am no longer faint-hearted, because I can walk away from you
forever and venture upon a vague future without a glow of eagerness. All
I need is something to beckon to me.... There is nothing ahead of me
except the quiet artery of a thoroughfare hemmed in by inky houses and
the darkness, which melts away at the panes of the street-lamps and
makes them dance and quiver below and twinkle like eyes at the top.
Liberty has the taste of fog....

BOARDING-HOUSE

Shall I cross this unfriendly threshold covered with a mangy rug? I
should so much like to stop walking and go to sleep. Shall I choose this
house which exhales the smell of a cellar, this gloomy shelter, these
dingy walls? Shall I....

Come on, fate is everywhere. This is the place I must enter.

IV

I have found work....

A fortnight, a hundred hopes, a fortnight.... The unfriendly atmosphere
of stiff faces. "The position is filled." Stairs mounted four steps at a
time, then descended gravely, catechisms begun with questions that
embarrass and so often ending with questions that make you blush. Then
one fine day--by what magic?--the position is not filled, and you
answer yes to everything required; the sky is clear, you will start
to-morrow.

I have not drained to its dregs the joy there is in working at my
nondescript job from morning until evening. To work for your bread, to
feel dignified and straight. You cannot talk, to be sure, but at least
you do not lie, you are in repose, you let the waves of your being pile
up, and every evening you return to a docile home, where the silence is
always nigh to flowering....

The boarding-house, however, is not hospi