Портрет художника в юности

           Evenifhesenthertheversesshewouldnotshowthemtoothers.No,no;shecouldnot.

           Hebegantofeelthathehadwrongedher.Asenseofherinnocencemovedhimalmosttopityher,aninnocencehehadneverunderstoodtillhehadcometotheknowledgeofitthroughsin,aninnocencewhichshetoohadnotunderstoodwhileshewasinnocentorbeforethestrangehumiliationofhernaturehadfirstcomeuponher.Thenfirsthersoulhadbeguntoliveashissoulhadwhenhehadfirstsinned,andatendercompassionfilledhisheartasherememberedherfrailpallorandhereyes,humbledandsaddenedbythedarkshameofwomanhood.

           Whilehissoulhadpassedfromecstasytolanguorwherehadshebeen?Mightitbe,inthemysteriouswaysofspirituallife,thathersoulatthosesamemomentshadbeenconsciousofhishomage?Itmightbe.

           Aglowofdesirekindledagainhissoulandfiredandfulfilledallhisbody.Consciousofhisdesireshewaswakingfromodoroussleep,thetemptressofhisvillanelle.Hereyes,darkandwithalookoflanguor,wereopeningtohiseyes.Hernakednessyieldedtohim,radiant,warm,odorousandlavish-limbed,enfoldedhimlikeashiningcloud,enfoldedhimlikewaterwithaliquidlife;andlikeacloudofvapourorlikewaterscircumfluentinspacetheliquidlettersofspeech,symbolsoftheelementofmystery,flowedforthoverhisbrain.