lodious sounds of waterfalls the desire never to 
see again their household gods, their wives, 
their children; never again to confront the lofty 
billows of the sea. 
Strange faces were there, of men and 
women, marked with a fatal beauty; it seemed 
to me that I had known them long since, at 
times and in countries whose exact remem-
brance I could no longer fix, and which rather 
inspired me with a fraternal sympathy than 
with that fear which usually arises at the sight 
of the unknown. If I wished to try to define in 
any way their strange expression, I would say 
that never have I seen eyes that shone more 
forcefully with the horror of boredom and with 
the immortal desire to feel themselves alive. 
My host and myself were already by the 
time we sat down old and good friends. We 
ate, we drank outrageously every sort of ex-
traordinary wine, and, a thing no less strange, 
it seemed to me after several hours that I was 
no more drunk than he was; nevertheless, 
gambling, that super-human pleasure, had in-
terrupted at different intervals our frequent li-
bations, and I must tell you that I played and 
lost my soul in a rubber with heroic careless-
ness and lightness. The soul is so impalpable a 
thing, so often useless, and sometimes so 
troublesome, that at this loss I experienced lit-