THE EQUINOX
It was a faint tinkle, like a distant cow—bell, or like a chime
heard far off, heard from the snow.
There was an icy quality
in the note.
“ Where are you ? "
" I—I—” she broke off.
His eyes lit with joy.
“I am in the sand; I am buried to the waist in the sand.
I see nothing but sand."
His face {ell again.
”What is sand?” he asked.
" Oh—just sand, you know.
Leagues and leagues
of
sand; like a great bowl of sand."
“ But what is sand ? "
" Sand—oh!
sand is God, I
suppose."
There was
a
patience and weariness in her voice, as of one who has
suffered long and is at rest, or convalescent.
“And who are you ? "
She did not answer the question.
“ Now I see sky,” she
said.
" Sky is God, too, I think."
“ Then do you see God ? "
"Oh no!
Ithink I am God, somehow.
It is all like it
was before, long ago.
I was once a spider in the sand.
God
is a spider; the Universe is flies.
Iam a fly, too.
.
.
. And
now the desert is full of flies.”
Rolles bit his lip; his face was drawn with pain.
At
that moment he looked an old man.
“Black flies," she went on.
" Horrible white maggots.
And now
there
are
corpses.
The
maggots play about
their mouths and eyes.
There are three corpses that were
God when they
were alive.
I
killed
Him.
That
was
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