The White Shadow | Page 4

tell--I, as I was, standing beside my body flung there across the earth.
I looked at my body, lying in a heap, then turned to the sand cliff
smiling.
"Sweetheart!" I called.
But she was already at my side.
We walked on through fragrant pastures, watching the long shadows
stretch from field to field, speaking of what had been and of all that was
to be. It was so simple--everything was clear before us. Had there been
doubts, fears, sudden alarms, startled heartbeats?
If there had been, now they were ended forever.
"Not forever," said Sweetheart; "who knows how long the magic
second may last?"
"But we--what difference can that make?" I asked.
"To us?"
"Yes."
"None," said Sweetheart decisively.
We looked out into the west. The sun turned to a mound of cinders; the
hills loomed in opalescent steam.

"But--but--your shadow!" said Sweetheart.
I bent my head, thrilled with happiness.
"And yours," I whispered.
The shadows we cast were whiter than snow.
I still heard the hill winds, soft in my ears as breaking surf; a bird-note
came from the dusky woodland; a star broke out overhead.
"What is your pleasure, Sweetheart, now all is said?" I asked.
"The world is all so fair," she sighed; "is it fairer beyond the hills,
Jack?"
"It is fair where you pass by, north, south, and from west to west again.
In France the poplars are as yellow as our oaks. In Morbihan the gorse
gilds all the hills, yellow as golden-rod. Shall we go?"
"But in the spring--let us wait until spring."
"Where?"
"Here."
"Until spring?"
"It is written that Time shall pass as a shadow across the sea. What is
that book there under your feet--that iron-bound book, half embedded
like a stone in the grass."
"I did not see it!"
"Bring it to me."
I raised the book; it left a bare mark in the sod as a stone that is turned.
Then, holding it on my knees, I opened it, and Sweetheart, leaning on
my shoulder, read. The tall stars flared like candles, flooding the page

with diamond light; the earth, perfumed with blossoms, stirred with the
vague vibration of countless sounds, tiny voices swaying breathless in
the hidden surge of an endless harmony.
"The white shadow is the shadow of the soul," she read. Even the winds
were hushed as her sweet lips moved.
"And what shall make thee to understand what hell is? . . . When the
sun shall be folded up as a garment that is laid away; when the stars fall,
and the seas boil, and when souls shall be joined again to their bodies;
and when the girl who hath been buried alive shall be asked for what
crime; when books shall be laid open, when hell shall burn fiercely, and
when paradise shall be brought very near:
"Every soul shall know what it hath wrought!"
I closed my eyes; the splendour of the starlight on the page was more
than my eyes could bear.
But she read on; for what can dim her eyes?
"O man, verily, labouring, thou labourest to meet thy LORD.
"And thou shalt meet HIM!"
"When the earth shall be stretched like a skin, and shall cast forth that
which is therein;
"By the heaven adorned with signs, by the witness and the witnessed;
"By that which appeareth by night; by the daybreak and the ten
nights-the ten nights;
"The night of Al Kadr is better than a thousand months.
"Praise be to God, the Lord of all creatures; the Most Merciful, the
King of the Day of Judgment. Thee do we worship, and of thee do we
beg assistance. Direct us in the right way, in the way of those to whom
thou hast been gracious; not of those against whom thou art incensed,

nor of those who go astray!"
* * *
In the sudden silence that spread across earth and heaven I heard the
sound of a voice under the earth, calling, calling, calling.
"It is already spring," said Sweetheart; and she rose, placing her white
hands in mine. "Shall we go?"
"But we are already there," I stammered, turning my eyes fearfully; for
the tall pines dwindled and clustered and rose again cool and gray in
the morning air, all turned to stone, fretted and carved like lacework;
and where the pines had faded, the twin towers of a cathedral loomed;
and where the hills swept across the horizon, the roofs of a white city
glimmered in the morning sun. Bridges and quays and streets and
domes and the hum of traffic and rattle of arms; and over all, the veil of
haze and the twin gray towers of Notre Dame!
"Sweetheart!" I faltered.
But we were already in my studio.
IV.
The studio had not