“I will not be used for a creation in which I know no joy. I will not cloak brute creation with a seeming joy distilled by mind and time and custom. I will not be used up and broken and cover indecency with false decency, nor be comforted with the life that has stolen my own. My life shall give life, and for the giving have only the more to give. That which I have done with the spirit not awakened in me is done and no longer a part of me. That which the spirit does in me lives on forever and ever.”
Kilner found him lying in the darkness, staring with vacant eyes. He was terrified. René looked so deathly. He sat by his side and chafed his hands, and caressed him tenderly, soothed him, spoke to him in little staccato phrases, and went on with them until he seemed to listen:
“The lamps aren’t lit to-night. It’s very dark. Do you hear? Stars shining. Wonderful stars. Better than lamps. I say, stars are better than lamps.”
At length René said:
“Yes. Stars are much better than lamps. Lamps are only to prevent people committing a nuisance. Stars don’t give a damn if they do.”
“I quite agree,” said Kilner. “Drink this brandy.”
When he had drunk, René said:
“Women ought to be like stars.”
“Rubbish!” grunted Kilner. “Women ought to be like women.”
“I’ve been trying to understand things.”