I saw the awful loneliness of
creation, and immensity stretched around me. I traveled through
infinite spaces of void and blackness, and found no sound of voice or
life, yet all the time, welling high within me, was a tide, the
fullness of which I had never known in my waking hours. All the
strength that I had hoarded, all the desire for love that I had pushed
aside, all of the fierce commotions of unrest that mark us from the
brute, stirred in me till I felt as if I were suffocating, and cried
out for a helping hand. But I was alone, and gray wastes surrounded
me, and my surge of feeling beat itself out against desolation. I woke
with sweat on my forehead.
I woke to a black night. The stars looked cold, and the men beside me
lay as if dead. I looked up and watched the roll of the planets. The
mystery of infinity which lies naked at midnight in the wilderness
drives some men mad. Heretofore I had been untouched by it except with
delight. Now I crept cautiously to my feet and went softly to the
woman.
I know that I stepped without sound, but as I stood for a moment
looking down at the couch of boughs where she lay I heard a guarded
whisper.
"Monsieur, monsieur."
I bent over her.
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