It was now that I had my first real taste of fear.
On the road up I had decided that therewas no stream in it, but almost at once I
came to a spring.
The placesmelt dank and unused and mouldy, like a
kirk in winter-time insome Highland glen. He tried again several times
withoutresult.
But one had had his stand right in the breach, and
with him I wouldhave difficulty.
The sight of this insuperable obstacle effectively
put a stop to mybrief exhilaration of spirit.
Supposing there was someone on board, some one
hostile, I would be completely at his mercy.
I looked back and saw a light twinkling at the
gap.
Myintention was to join my fellows in the inn
courtyard, and meetMaris there in the morning.
Butthere was no sign of Maris in the wide
landscape. The fabric rose stark andsilent like a prison, and round it stood the
wardens.
Our forces were divided with nolink of
communication. Butfor all the comfort it gave me I might have been stretched
onfrozen bricks in a dungeon. Janni, of course, was no swimmer, and besides,
theresponsibility was on me.
But there was no answerfrom the sleeping
bay.
It took us thebetter part of an hour to get abreast
of the point where the wallended. That is to say, suchwas his intention, but he
missed his aim and only grazed my littlefinger.
There, about two inthe morning, Maris found
him.
I presented him with my emptycigarette-case, and he
kissed me on both cheeks.
I could donothing till the night came again. But
who owned it, and what wasit doing in this outlandish spot, where there was no
landing? I noticed,too, that they kept their faces resolutely averted from the
DancingFloor. When Maris met them they were padding along in abject
panic.
Butthere was no sign of Maris in the wide
landscape.
But my entrance had been observed, and the street
was full ofpeople.
Ihad a sudden sense of things being predestined, of
the ironicalfore-ordination of life. There was a fender amidships hanging over the
port side.
It closed in on me from everyside, and yet made no
sound.
The old man drew several buckets, and setabout
cleaning the chancel, and I was glad to lend a hand. My lethargy hadgone, and I woke
to a violent, anxious energy.
I followed the edge of the scarp as it rose to the
highest pointwhere the wall ended. From below came thesound of dreamily moving
water, of sleepy pigeons in the rocks. He brought me a coat and an ancientfelt hat,
and made signs that I should put them on.
I have much to tell you, my friend, he said, but
first I mustinterview his Holiness. It closed in on me from everyside, and yet made
no sound. It reminded me of aJohn the Baptist by Donatello which I once saw in
Venice.