Above, uniting craggy horn to horn, was an
architrave of stars.
"Good-bye"--to the light in the valley, and starting the car she began
the descent on Charleville. There are moments when the roll of the world
is perceptible to the extravagant senses. There are moments when the
glamour of man thins away into oblivion before the magic of night, when
his face fades and his voice is silenced before that wind of excited
perception that blows out of nowhere to shake the soul.
In such a mood, in such a giddy hour, seated in person upon her car, in
spirit upon her imagination, Fanny rode down the mountain into the night.
She was invincible, inattentive to the voice of absent man, a hard,
hollow goddess, a flute for the piping of heaven--composing and chanting
unmusical songs, her inner ear fastened upon another melody. And heaven,
protecting a creature at that moment so estranged from earth, led her
down the wild road, held back the threatening forest branches, brought
her, all but standing up at the wheel like a lunatic, safely to the foot
of the last hill.
Recalled to earth by the light of Charleville she drove slowly up the
main street, replaced the car in the garage, and returned to her house
in the Rue de Cleves.
"It is true," she whispered, as she entered the room, "that I am half
out of reach of pain--" and long, in plans for the future, she hung over
the embers.
Pages:
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260