They stood beneath the trees, a space of black and white between them. “Two men—two women—ascetics of the Lord—dwelling so, would sometimes come this near, would sometimes speak together!... Youth and the riot of youth we have put away. As though we were two men, as though we were two women, we are fellow-travellers to the City of God.... Would Christ say, ‘Speak no word—shut your eyes, turn your head’?”
“If it were sin—but it is not!—Are we so different, you and I?”
“We are one. You are my soul, rich and good—”
“And you are my soul, rich and good—”
“Where does Christ say, ‘Woman is of the dæmon, but man of the angel’?—Let us meet as one, above man and woman, equal and unharming each the other!”
“I will come to your garden once a month, and do you come to mine once a month. We will talk together a little while—a little while! And if we sin, I know it not!”
In this fashion they lived for a year. Twice twelve times they saw each other, in the freshness of the morning or the last gold of the afternoon. They sat or stood, a space of earth between, and they talked for an hour. Then the one who was the visitor turned east or west, and another fortnight went by. The year was thus made of long gold beads with jewels in between.
Then came a time of struggle and suffering. Then one of the jewels turned suddenly fire red....
Then the two met for the last time in this desert or this oasis. “We thought that we were strong, but we have yet to grow.... Oh, far and far to grow!”
“We do not know what is strength.”