“Shall we go?” she said.
“Yes,” he answered. And they mounted to the car once more, and left behind them this memorable battle-field.
They drifted through the wild, late afternoon, in a beautiful motion that was smiling and transcendent. His mind was sweetly at ease, the life flowed through him as from some new fountain, he was as if born out of the cramp of a womb.
“Are you happy?” she asked him, in her strange, delighted way.
“Yes,” he said.
“So am I,” she cried in sudden ecstacy, putting her arm round him and clutching him violently against her, as he steered the motor-car.
“Don’t drive much more,” she said. “I don’t want you to be always doing something.”
“No,” he said. “We’ll finish this little trip, and then we’ll be free.”
“We will, my love, we will,” she cried in delight, kissing him as he turned to her.
He drove on in a strange new wakefulness, the tension of his consciousness broken. He seemed to be conscious all over, all his body awake with a simple, glimmering awareness, as if he had just come awake, like a thing that is born, like a bird when it comes out of an egg, into a new universe.