Diary of a Drug Fiend

106 The Diary of a Drug Fiend names of evocation ”’ used by magicians, the bellowings and whistlings of the Gnostics, the Mantras of Hindoo devotees, set their souls spinning till they became giddy with glory. Even the names of the places that we were passing in the train excited me just as far as they were un- familiar and sonorous. _ I became increasingly excited by the sight of the Italian words, “‘ E pericoloso sporgersi.” That wouldn’t mean much, no doubt, to any one who spoke Italian. To me, it was a master-key of magic. I connected it somehow with my love for Lou. Everything was a symbol of my love for Lou except when that idiotic nuisance, knowledge, declared the contrary. We were whirling in this tremendous trance all the morning. There kept on coming into my mind the title of a picture I had once seen by some crazy modern painter: ‘‘ Four red monks carrying a black goat across the snow to Nowhere.” It was obviously an excuse for a scheme of colour ; but the fantastic imbecility of the phrase, and the subtle suggestion of sinister wickedness, made me pant with suppressed exaltation. « The “ first call for lunch” came with startling sudden- ness. I woke up wildly to recognise the fact that Lou and I had not spoken to each other for hours, that we had been rushing through a Universe of our own creation with stupendous speed and diabolical delight. And at the same time I realised that we had been automati- cally ‘coking up” without knowing that we were doing so. The material world had become of so little importance that I no longer knew where I was. I completely mixed up my present journey with memories of two or three previous Continental excursions. It was the first time that Lou had ever been farther than Paris, and she looked to me for information as to time and place. With her, familiarity had not bred contempt, and I found myself unable to tell her the