Dreams by Olive Schreiner (bookstand for reading .txt) π
And it was night in his heart also.
Then from the marshes to his right and left cold mists arose and closed about him. A fine, imperceptible rain fell in the dark, and great drops gathered on his hair and clothes. His heart beat slowly, and a numbness crept through all his limbs. Then, looking up, two merry wisp lights came dancing. He lifted his head to look at them. Nearer, nearer they came. So warm, so bright, they danced like stars of fire. They stood before him at last. From the centre of the radiating flame in one looked out a woman's face, laughing, dimpled, with streaming yellow hair. In the centre of the other were merry laughing ripples, like the bubbles on a glass of wine. They danced before him.
"Who are you," asked the hunter, "who alone come to me in my solitude and darkness?"
"We are the twins Sensuality," they cried. "Our father's n
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It is not meet a soul should see Heaven and be cast out again!β
And God laid his hand on me, and said, βGo back to earth: that which you
seek is there.β
I awoke: it was morning. The silence and darkness of the night were gone.
Through my narrow attic window I saw the light of another day. I closed my
eyes and turned towards the wall: I could not look upon the dull grey
world.
In the streets below, men and women streamed past by hundreds; I heard the
beat of their feet on the pavement. Men on their way to business; servants
on errands; boys hurrying to school; weary professors pacing slowly the old
street; prostitutes, men and women, dragging their feet wearily after last
nightβs debauch; artists with quick, impatient footsteps; tradesmen for
orders; children to seek for bread. I heard the stream beat by. And at
the alleyβs mouth, at the street corner, a broken barrel-organ was playing;
sometimes it quavered and almost stopped, then went on again, like a broken
human voice.
I listened: my heart scarcely moved; it was as cold as lead. I could not
bear the long day before me; and I tried to sleep again; yet still I heard
the feet upon the pavement. And suddenly I heard them cry loud as they
beat, βWe are seeking!βwe are seeking!βwe are seeking!β and the broken
barrel-organ at the street corner sobbed, βThe Beautiful!βthe Beautiful!β
the Beautiful!β And my heart, which had been dead, cried out with every
throb, βLove!βTruth!βthe Beautiful!βthe Beautiful!β It was the music I
had heard in Heaven that I could not sing there.
And fully I awoke.
Upon the faded quilt, across my bed a long yellow streak of pale London
sunlight was lying. It fell through my narrow attic window.
I laughed. I rose.
I was glad the long day was before me.
Paris and London.
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