She gathered her strength during a short pause.
She was greatly encouraged by the fact that the acknowledgment of the
delusion had been followed by no convulsive reaction in the body. She
was on the very verge of a complete triumph, and the concentration of
her will during a few moments longer might win the battle.
She could not have chosen a spot better suited for her purpose. Within
five minutes' walk of streets in which throngs of people were moving
about, the scene which surrounded her was desolate and almost wild. The
unfinished building loomed like a ruin behind her; the rough hewn blocks
lay like boulders in a stony desert; the broad gray ice lay like a floor
of lustreless iron before her under the uncertain starlight. Only afar
off, high up in the mighty Hradschin, lamps gleamed here and there from
the windows, the distant evidences of human life. All was still. Even
the steely ring of the skates had ceased.
"And so," she continued, presently, "this man's whole life has been a
delusion, ever since he began to fancy in the fever of an illness that
he loved a certain woman. Is this clear to you, my Mind?"
"It is quite clear," answered the muffled voice.
"He was so utterly mad that he even gave that woman a name--a name, when
she had never existed except in his imagination."
"Except in his imagination," repeated the sleeper, without resistance.
"He called her Beatrice.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154