Alas, my poor fellow-prisoners!
PART FIVE
_They also serve who only stand and wait_.
MILTON.
Once more Clerambault found himself wrapt in solitude; but this time
she appeared to him as never before, calm and beautiful, kindness
shining from her face, with eyes full of affection and soft cool hands
which she laid on his fevered forehead. He knew that now she had
chosen him for her own.
It is not given to every man to be alone; many groan under it, but
with a secret pride. It is the complaint of the ages; and proves,
without those who complain being aware of it, that solitude has not
marked them for her own; that they are not her familiars. They have
passed the outer door, and are cooling their heels in the vestibule;
but they have not had patience to wait their turn to go in, or else
their recriminations have kept them at a distance.
No one can penetrate to the heart of friendly solitude unless they
have the gift of God's grace, or have gained the benefit of trials
bravely accepted. Outside the door you must leave the dust of the
road, the harsh voices and mean thoughts of the world, egotism,
vanity, miserable rebellions against disappointments in love or
ambition.--It must be that, like the pure Orphic shades whose golden
tablets have transmitted to us their dying voices, "_The soul flees
from the circle of pain_" and presents itself alone and bare "_to the
chill fountain which flows from the lake of Memory_.
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