o often had
to fight, my will is now in you. You wanted, like me, to be free, and
that made you suffer, and made you my enemy; but now even if you kill
me, you have seen the light in me, and once seen, you can no longer
reject it. Strike then! But know that in fighting against me you fight
yourself also; you are beaten in advance, and when I defend myself, it
is you that I defend as well. _The One against All_ is the _One for
All_, and soon will be _The One with All_.

I shall no longer be solitary! I feel that I have never been in truth
alone. My brothers of the world, you may indeed be scattered afar over
the earth like a handful of grain, but I know that you are here beside
me. The thought of a man is not solitary; the idea which grows in him
springs up in others; when he feels it in his heart, let him rejoice,
no matter how unhappy, how injured he may be, for it is the earth
reviving. The first spark in a lonely soul is the point of the ray
which will pierre the night. So, welcome, Light. Break through the
night which is around and within me!... "Clerambault."

The fresh light of day returned, ever young and new, untouched by the
stains of men which the sun drinks up like a morning mist.

Madame Clerambault woke, and when she saw her husband with open eyes,
she thought that he too had just waked up.

"You had a good sleep," said she. "I don't think you stirred all night
long." He did not contradict her, but thought of the vast distances he
had traversed in the spirit, that fiery bird that flies through the
night.... But feeling that he had come back to earth, he got up.

At the same hour another man rose, who had also passed a sleepless
night, who had also evoked his dead son, and thought of Clerambault.
whom he did not know, with fierce hatred.

A letter came from Rosine by the first mail, containing a secret that
Clerambault had guessed long ago. Daniel had spoken to his parents,
and the marriage would take place the next time he came home from the
front. She went through the form of asking the consent of her father
and mother, but she knew that her wishes were theirs. Her letter
radiated happiness and a triumphant security that nothing could shake.
The sad riddle of the agonised world had found an answer, and in the
absorption of her young love the universal suffering; did not seem too
high a price for the flower that bloomed for her on this bloody stem.
In the midst of it all, she was tender and compassion