The Worshipper of the Image

by Richard Le Gallienne

"It would make barren a whole meadow."

"Forget it."

"I will—And you?"

"I will."

And Antony and Silencieux laughed softly together by the sea.

Many days Antony and Silencieux stayed together by the sea. They loved it together in all its changes, in sun and rain, in wild wind and dreamy calm; at morning when it shone like a spirit, at evening when it flickered like a ghost, at noon when it lay asleep curled up like a woman in the arms of the land. Sometimes at evening they sat in the little fishing harbour, watching the incoming boats, till the sky grew sad with rigging and old men's faces.

Then at last Silencieux said: "I am weary of the sea. Let us go to the town—to the lights and the sad cries of the human waves."

So they went to the town and found a room high up, where they sat at the window and watched the human lights, and listened to the human music.

Never had it been so wonderful to be together.

For a week Antony lived in heaven. Never had Silencieux been so kind, so close to him.