Though market would begin at dawn, men hadno
thought of sleep.
The men hid themselves in their
blankets.
The voice finished singing, only the drum kept on.
Fifis far more ladylike than the reckless flappers; andfar more nervous,
wincing.
Some, too shy to come right up, lingered on the
nearest benches ofthe plaza. Beside him stood another man holding a banner that hung
from alight rod. When the snake of your bodylifts its head, beware! The man at the
drum lifted up his voice in a wild, blindsong. And theone held her fingers softly,
loosely, but with transcendentnearness. In the cave which is called Dark Eye, Behind
the sun, looking through him as a window Is the place.
Listen, men, and the women of men: It is
time.
It wasplaying again and again the peculiar melody
Kate had heard atfirst.
Their bones were moist, their hearts
weak.
Clogged and tangled in the elements, never able to
extricatethemselves. She dropped her head, andlonged to be able to veil her
face.
In the cave which is called Dark Eye, Behind the
sun, looking through him as a window Is the place.
It was like a darkly glowing, vivid nucleus of new
life.
I heard the star singing like a dying bird; My name
is Jesus, I am Marys Son.
Everybody was quite still; the expectant hush
deepened to a kind ofdead, night silence. But she heardthe answer away back in her
soul, like a far-off mocking-bird atnight. A race old in subjection to fear,and
unable to shake it off. Yes, it has only been coming for a short time. She thought
of the grisly stories of the country, which she hadheard.
She was, as she had never been before,
absolutephysically afraid, blood afraid.
So, as it weresuddenly, the life in the plaza was
dense and heavy with potency.
But at night, like clotting blood theair would
begin to thicken again.
There he waited, smiling with alook of abstraction.
And they came with a dead god on the Cross,saying: Lo! There was no recognizable
rhythm, no recognizable emotion, it washardly music. Kate herself was too shyand
wincing to sing: too blenched with disillusion.
But perhaps the automobile will make roads even
through theinaccessible soul of the Indian. He understands soul, which is of
theblood. But the police in most countries are neverpresent save where there is no
trouble.
Then a man aroseand threw off his blanket, and
threw wood on the central fire. A race old in subjection to fear,and unable to shake
it off. So I took the sandals of the Saviour And started down the long slope Past
the mount of the sun.
Not until he becomes an artisan or connected
withmachinery does the modern spirit get him. The inner circle, of men and women in
pairs, hand in hand, wasclosing.
She had beensitting at a little table, with Juana
for dueña, sipping a glass ofabsinthe.