effort that crushes down all repulsion, all revolt.
Upon the ruins of my mystic dreams there has grown up a lush rank flower—the worship of Life and its delights.
And my resignation is ungrudging, royally complete: for I do love life, in spite of all.
My mind—my cruel, insatiable, gloomy mind—would have put happiness to death; but I now trample it down. To-day I will pluck the flame-red blossom of Life: and my song shall call upon the Faun!
No Faun comes to my call; but instead of his hoofs, I hear the gallop of a horse in the distance. Laying my ear to the ground, I make sure.
Yes, I know: it is Janusz, coming after me. So I cease from singing, and lie silent and without motion; he is riding along the forest pathway, and I hope he may miss me, hidden here among the pines. And yet I am not unaware that, should he ride past and not discover me, I should feel disappointed. Notwithstanding, I make no movement. The only deceit I care to shun is self-deceit.
Janusz, who has seen me afar amongst the birches and the pines, urges his horse for-
