about me and sought her in the gardens of the temple. And a shameless girl directed me, laughing, to one of the little houses. There I found Aalea, indeed, with a vile Persian, while a drowsy-eyed slave-girl, looking elsewhere, idly waved a fan above their foul desire . . .
I remember rushing into that room and dashing my clenched fist into the face of the idolator. I burned; and in that burning my youth flashed up and then sank forever into ashes. I remember one look at my lost love, her tears, and her hand clutching my sleeve as I staggered out into the night. And a loud lamentation, as though her heart, rather than mine, had been broken . . .
Ah well! Peace came to me again, in time—the long peace and the comfort of the Mother who casts out all sorrow and all joy. But my heart never turned again to earthly love; and now I am an old man.
