THE DREAM CIRCEAN
other through my brain, bewildering it, leading the will to
falter, the steps to halt.
“ Beneath, keener anguish than the thrust of a poisoned
rapier, stabbed me this poignant pang: my love awaits me,
waits for me to save her, to fly with her. . .
“Where was she?
“It was broad day; I cleansed myself of the marks of
battle, sat down and broke my fast, my sane mind steadily
forcing itself to a sober plan of action, beating manfully down
the scream of its despair. All day I searched the streets.
Passing an antiquary, I showed him my weapons. He readily
supplied their history; but—there was none of that family
alive, nor had been since the great Revolution. Their goods?
The four winds of heaven might know. At those words ‘the
four winds’ I rushed out of the shop, as if stung by an adder.
“T drove home, set all my servants hunting for railed
houses. They were to report to me in the Rue des Quatre
Vents. Any house not accounted for, any that might conceal
a mystery, these I would see myself.
“ All labour lost! My servants tried. I distrusted their
energy : I set myself obstinately to scour Paris.
“There is a rule of mathematics which enables one to
traverse completely any labyrinth. I applied this to the city.
I walked in every road of it, marking the streets at each
corner as I passed with my private seal. Each railed house I
investigated separately and thoroughly. By virtue of my
position I was welcome everywhere. But every night I paced
the Rue des Quatre Vents, awaiting . . .
“ Awaiting what? Well, in the end, perhaps death. The
children gibed at me; passers-by shunned me.
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