Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - I. The Hand of the Invisible
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reconcile myself again to my lot, and value the
happy mischance which has brought me under
this kindly roof.
The first book which I take out of the apothecary’s
library opens of itself, and my glance
fastens like a falcon’s on a line in the chapter
headed “Phosphorus.” The author states briefly
that the scientific chemist, Lockyer, has demonstrated
by spectral analysis that phosphorus is
not a simple body, and that his report of his
experiments has been submitted to the Parisian
Academy of Science, which has not been able to
refute his proofs.
Encouraged by this unexpected support, I take
my saucepans with the not completely consumed
remains of sulphur, and submit them to a bureau
for chemical analysis, which promises to give
me their report the next morning.
It is my birthday. When I return to the hospital
I find a letter from my wife. She laments
my misfortune, and she wants to join me, to look
after me and love me.
The happiness of feeling myself loved in spite
of everything awakes in me the need of
thankfulness. But to whom? To the Unknown, who
has remained hidden for so many years?
My heart smites me, I confess the unworthy
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