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The stillness was that of a deep grave, save for the
raindrops, falling light as thistledown, with a faint,
monotonous sound like a whisper that dies and begins again and
dies there behind the wet, glistening trunks.
What a strange whisper it was when one listened! How
wistful! — like the beating of soft wings when old
memories flock. Or was it a low rustle in the dry leaves of lost
illusions? He felt lonely, drearily alone and forsaken.
Among all the thousands of hearts that beat round about
in the stillness of the night, not one turned in longing to
him! Over all the earth there was a net of invisible threads
binding soul to soul, threads stronger than life, stronger
than death; but in all that net not one tendril stretched
out to him. Homeless, forsaken! Forsaken? Was that a
The stillness was that of a deep grave, save for the
raindrops, falling light as thistledown, with a faint,
monotonous sound like a whisper that dies and begins again and
dies there behind the wet, glistening trunks.
What a strange whisper it was when one listened! How
wistful!—like the beating of soft wings when old
memories flock. Or was it a low rustle in the dry leaves of lost
illusions? He felt lonely, drearily alone and forsaken.
Among all the thousands of hearts that beat round about
in the stillness of the night, not one turned in longing to
him! Over all the earth there was a net of invisible threads
binding soul to soul, threads stronger than life, stronger
than death; but in all that net not one tendril stretched
out to him. Homeless, forsaken! Forsaken? Was that a
sound of goblets and kisses out there? Was there a gleam
of white shoulders and dark eyes? Was that a laugh
ringing through the stillness?—What then? Better the
slow-dripping bitterness of solitude than that poisonous, sickly
sweetness. … Oh, curses on it! I shake your dust from my
thoughts, slothful life, life for dogs, for blind men, for
weaklings. … As a rose! O God, watch over her and keep
her through the dark night! Oh, that I might be her guard
and protector, smooth every path, shelter her against every
wind—so beautiful—listening like a child—as a rose! …
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