Портрет художника в юності
Chapter 3
INTHEDARKNIGHT,ACROSSTHEBLEAKWILDERNESSGUIDEUSONTOOURLORDJESUS,GUIDEUSHOME.
Hiseyesweredimmedwithtearsand,lookinghumblyuptoheaven,heweptfortheinnocencehehadlost.
Wheneveninghadfallenheleftthehouse,andthefirsttouchofthedampdarkairandthenoiseofthedoorasitclosedbehindhimmadeacheagainhisconscience,lulledbyprayerandtears.Confess!Confess!Itwasnotenoughtolulltheconsciencewithatearandaprayer.HehadtokneelbeforetheministeroftheHolyGhostandtelloverhishiddensinstrulyandrepentantly.Beforeheheardagainthefootboardofthehousedoortrailoverthethresholdasitopenedtolethimin,beforehesawagainthetableinthekitchensetforsupperhewouldhavekneltandconfessed.Itwasquitesimple.
Theacheofconscienceceasedandhewalkedonwardswiftlythroughthedarkstreets.ThereweresomanyflagstonesonthefootpathofthatstreetandsomanystreetsinthatCityandsomanycitiesintheworld.Yeteternityhadnoend.Hewasinmortalsin.Evenoncewasamortalsin.Itcouldhappeninaninstant.Buthowsoquickly?Byseeingorbythinkingofseeing.Theeyesseethething,withouthavingwishedfirsttosee.Theninaninstantithappens.Butdoesthatpartofthebodyunderstandorwhat?Theserpent,themostsubtlebeastofthefield.Itmustunderstandwhenitdesiresinoneinstantandthenprolongsitsowndesireinstantafterinstant,sinfully.Itfeelsandunderstandsanddesires.
