Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (49 page)

I
  
walked
slowly,
for
I
was
almost
exhausted,
as
well
as
lame,
and
I
felt
the
intensest
wretchedness
for
the
horrible
death
of
little
Weena.

II
seemed
an
overwhelming
calamity.
Now,
in
this
old
familiar
room, it
is
more
like
the
sorrow
of
a
dream
than
an
actual
loss.
But
that morning
it
left
me
absolutely
lonely
again—terribly
alone.
I
began
to lliink
of
this
house
of
mine,
of
this
fireside,
of
some
of
you,
and
with such
thoughts
came
a
longing
that
was
pain.

"But,
as
I
walked
over
the
smoking
ashes
under
the
bright
morning
sky,
I
made
a
discovery.
In
my
trouser
pocket
were
still
some
loose matches.
The
box
must
have
leaked
before
it
was
lost.

1
o

"About
eight
or
nine
in
the
morning
I
came
to
the
same
seat
of yellow
metal
from
which
I
had
viewed
the
world
upon
the
evening of
my
arrival.
I
thought
of
my
hasty
conclusions
upon
that
evening and
could
not
refrain
from
laughing
bitterly
at
my
confidence.
Here was
the
same
beautiful
scene,
the
same
abundant
foliage,
the
same splendid
palaces
and
magnificent
ruins,
the
same
silver
river
running between
its
fertile
banks.
The
gay
robes
of
the
beautiful
people
moved hither
and
thither
among
the
trees.
Some
were
bathing
in
exactly
the place
where
I
had
saved
Weena,
and
that
suddenly
gave
me
a
keen stab
of
pain.
And
like
blots
upon
the
landscape
rose
the
cupolas above
the
ways
to
the
Under-world.
I
understood
now
what
all
the beauty
of
the
Over-world
people
covered.
Very
pleasant
was
their
day, as
pleasant
as
the
day
of
the
cattle
in
the
field.
Like
the
cattle,
they knew
of
no
enemies
and
provided
against
no
needs.
And
their
end was
the
same.

"I
grieved
to
think
how
brief
the
dream
of
the
human
intellect had
been.
It
had
committed
suicide.
It
had
set
itself
steadfastly towards
comfort
and
ease,
a
balanced
society
with
security
and
permanency
as
its
watchword,
it
had
attained
its
hopes—to
come
to
this
at last.
Once,
life
and
property
must
have
reached
almost
absolute safety.
The
rich
had
been
assured
of
his
wealth
and
comfort,
the toiler
assured
of
his
life
and
work.
No
doubt
in
that
perfect
world there
had
been
no
unemployed
problem,
no
social
question
left
unsolved.
And
a
great
quiet
had
followed.

"It
is
a
law
of
Nature
we
overlook,
that
intellectual
versatility is
the
compensation
for
change,
danger,
and
trouble.
An
animal
perfectly
in
harmony
with
its
environment
is
a
perfect
mechanism. Nature
never
appeals
to
intelligence
until
habit
and
instinct
are
useless.
There
is
no
intelligence
where
there
is
no
change
and
no
need of
change.
Only
those
animals
partake
of
intelligence
that
have
to meet
a
huge
variety
of
needs
and
dangers.