Would she never get to the top? Would the castle, the Babel of pinnacles, the town of towers remain ever inaccessibly high in the clouds?
Her step left blood behind on the rocky stone.
But she did not rest. Rest did not help her.
The Pilgrimage of Psyche
[To face p. 138
She preferred to go on, to climb. If she walked, if she climbed, the sooner would she reach the castle.
Step by step she advanced. Oh, she was no longer afraid of Emeralda! What could Emeralda do to her to make her afraid? What greater suffering could her sister inflict upon her than the pain of remorse, that was ever with her wherever she went!
And on she climbed, and the thistles tore her feet, and the solitary man who was coming down the rocky path greeted her reverently, when he saw the blood of her footstep.