Eccentrics and eccentricities -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
“So there I was, at length, at peace, and I stretched myself out on the
ground beneath the pines, pulling idly at a tuft of wild thyme, and
rubbing it between my hands till the whole evening was filled with its
curious aromatic scent, that came at me in gusts like a tropical evening
comes at one in gusts of warmth. I had not yet begun to think, for,
knowing that the moment when thought first consciously began to well up
in my spirit would take its place in the perspective of my life not far
short of that other moment on whose sacredness I scarcely dared to
dwell, I put it off, even now, when it had become inevitable, torturing
myself with the Epicureanism of my refinement. I was thirsty, thirsty,
thirsty, and though the water stood there, sparkling and clear, I still
refused myself the comfort of stretching out my hand.
“And then it came. Slowly and from afar, almost like pain running
obscurely and exquisitely down my limbs, reflection returned to me like
light out of darkness. I lay there absolutely motionless, while in my
head music began to play, and I was transported to palaces where the
fountains rose in jets of living water. Light crept all round me, and
music, music ... a great chorus, now, singing in unison; swelling and
bursting music, swelling and bursting light, louder and louder, brighter
and more dazzling; a deafening crash of music, a blinding vision of
light.
“I stood at last on the sunlit peak.
“All around me, but infinitely below, stretched the valleys and plains
of darkness where I had dragged out my interminable days. I looked down
upon them from my height, knowing that I should never return. I knew
that I now stood aloft, at liberty to examine the truth which had come
to me, turning it over and over in my hands like a jewel, playing with
it, luxuriating in its possession. It was to be mine, to take at will
from the casket of my mind, or to return there when other, prosaic
matters claimed my attention. But, whether I left it or whether I took
it out, I should bear it with me to the ends of the earth, and death
alone could wrench me from its contemplation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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