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to�this;�it�was�Love�had�isolated�us.�Love�had�come�to�me�with�her�
eyes�and�robed�in�her�beauty,�more�glorious�than�all�else�in�life,�in�
the�very�shape�and�colour�of�life,�and�summoned�me�away.�I�had�
silenced�all�the�voices,�I�had�answered�all�the�questions I�had�come�
to�her.�And�suddenly�there�was�nothing�but�War�and�Death! �
I�had�an�inspiration.� �After�all, �I�said,� it�could�have�been�only�a�
dream. �
A�dream! �he�cried,�flaming�upon�me,� a�dream when,�even�
now �
For�the�first�time�he�became�animated.�A�faint�flush�crept�into�his�
cheek.�He�raised�his�open�hand�and�clenched�it,�and�dropped�it�to�
his�knee.�He�spoke,�looking�away�from�me,�and�for�all�the�rest�of�the�
time�he�looked�away.� We�are�but�phantoms! �he�said,� and�the�
phantoms�of�phantoms,�desires�like�cloud shadows�and�wills�of�
50�
The�Door�in�the�Wall�and�Other�Stories�
straw�that�eddy�in�the�wind;�the�days�pass,�use�and�wont�carry�us�
through�as�a�train�carries�the�shadow�of�its�lights so�be�it!�But�one�
thing�is�real�and�certain,�one�thing�is�no�dream �stuff,�but�eternal�and�
enduring.�It�is�the�centre�of�my�life,�and�all�other�things�about�it�are�
subordinate�or�altogether�vain.�I�loved�her,�that�woman�of�a�dream.�
And�she�and�I�are�dead�together!�
A�dream!�How�can�it�be�a�dream,�when�it�drenched�a�living�life�
with�unappeasable�sorrow,�when�it�makes�all�that�I�have�lived�for�
and�cared�for,�worthless�and�unmeaning?�
Until�that�very�moment�when�she�was�killed�I�believed�we�had�still�
a�chance�of�getting�away, �he�said.� All�through�the�night�and�
morning�that�we�sailed�across�the�sea�from�Capri�to�Salerno,�we�
talked�of�escape.�We�were�full�of�hope,�and�it�clung�about�us�to�the�
end,�hope�for�the�life�together�we�should�lead,�out�of�it�all,�out�of�the�
battle�and�struggle,�the�wild�and�empty�passions,�the�empty�
arbitrary� thou�shalt �and� thou�shalt�not �of�the�world.�We�were�
uplifted,�as�though�our�quest�was�a�holy�thing,�as�though�love�for�
another�was�a�mission�.�.�.�
Even�when�from�our�boat�we�saw�the�fair�face�of�that�great�rock�
Capri already�scarred�and�gashed�by�the�gun�emplacements�and�
hiding places�that�were�to�make�it�a�fastness we�reckoned�nothing�
of�the�imminent�slaughter,�though�the�fury�of�preparation�hung�
about�in�the�puffs�and�clouds�of�dust�at�a�hundred�points�amidst�the�
gray;�but,�indeed,�I�made�a�text�of�that�and�talked.�There,�you�know,�
was�the�rock,�still�beautiful�for�all�its�scars,�with�its�countless�
windows�and�arches�and�ways,�tier�upon�tier,�for�a�thousand�feet,�a�
vast�carving�of�gray,�broken�by�vine clad�terraces,�and�lemon�and�
orange�groves,�and�masses�of�agave�and�prickly�pear,�and�puffs�of�
almond�blossom.�And�out�under�the�archway�that�is�built�over�the�
Piccola�Marina�other�boats�were�coming;�and�as�we�came�round�the�
cape�and�within�sight�of�the�mainland,�another�little�string�of�boats�
came�into�view,�driving�before�the�wind�towards�the�south west.�In�a�
little�while�a�multitude�had�come�out,�the�remoter�just�little�specks�of�
ultramarine�in�the�shadow�of�the�eastward�cliff.�
It�is�love�and�reason,��I�said,� fleeing�from�all�this�madness�of�war.��
And�though�we�presently�saw�a�squadron�of�aeroplanes�flying�
across�the�southern�sky�we�did�not�heed�it.�There�it�was a�line�of�
little�dots�in�the�sky and�then�more,�dotting�the�south eastern�
51�
The�Door�in�the�Wall�and�Other�Stories�
horizon,�and�then�still�more,�until�all�that�quarter�of�the�sky�was�
stippled�with�blue�specks.�Now�they�were�all�thin�little�strokes�of�
blue,�and�now�one�and�now�a�multitude�would�heel�and�catch�the�
sun�and�become�short�flashes�of�light.�They�came,�rising�and�falling�
and�growing�larger,�like�some�huge�flight�of�gulls�or�rooks�or�such
like�birds,�moving�with�a�marvellous�uniformity,�and�ever�as�they�
drew�nearer�they�spread�over�a�greater�width�of�sky.�The�southward�
wind�flung�itself�in�an�arrow headed�cloud�athwart�the�sun.�And�
then�suddenly�they�swept�round�to�the�eastward�and�streamed�
eastward,�growing�smaller�and�smaller�and�clearer�and�clearer�again�
until�they�vanished�from�the�sky.�And�after�that�we�noted�to�the�
northward�and�very�high�Evesham s�fighting�machines�hanging�high�
over�Naples�like�an�evening�swarm�of�gnats.�
It�seemed�to�have�no�more�to�do�with�us�than�a�flight�of�birds.�
Even�the�mutter�of�guns�far�away�in�the�south east�seemed�to�us�to�
signify�nothing�.�.�.�
Each�day,�each�dream�after�that,�we�were�still�exalted,�still�seeking�
that�refuge�where�we�might�live�and�love.�Fatigue�had�come�upon�
us,�pain�and�many�distresses.�For�though�we�were�dusty�and�stained�
by�our�toilsome�tramping,�and�half�starved�and�with�the�horror�of�
the�dead�men�we�had�seen�and�the�flight�of�the�peasants for�very�
soon�a�gust�of�fighting�swept�up�the�peninsula with�these�things�
haunting�our�minds�it�still�resulted�only�in�a�deepening�resolution�to�
escape.�Oh,�but�she�was�brave�and�patient!�She�who�had�never�faced�
hardship�and�exposure�had�courage�for�herself�and�me.�We�went�to�
and�fro�seeking�an�outlet,�over�a�country�all�commandeered�and�
ransacked�by�the�gathering�hosts�of�war.�Always�we�went�on�foot.�At�
first�there�were�other�fugitives,�but�we�did�not�mingle�with�them.�
Some�escaped�northward,�some�were�caught�in�the�torrent�of�
peasantry�that�swept�along�the�main�roads;�many�gave�themselves�
into�the�hands�of�the�soldiery�and�were�sent�northward.�Many�of�the�
men�were�impressed.�But�we�kept�away�from�these�things;�we�had�
brought�no�money�to�bribe�a�passage�north,�and�I�feared�for�my�lady�
at�the�hands�of�these�conscript�crowds.�We�had�landed�at�Salerno,�
and�we�had�been�turned�back�from�Cava,�and�we�had�tried�to�cross�
towards�Taranto�by�a�pass�over�Mount�Alburno,�but�we�had�been�
driven�back�for�want�of�food,�and�so�we�had�come�down�among�the�
marshes�by�Paestum,�where�those�great�temples�stand�alone.�I�had�
some�vague�idea�that�by�Paestum�it�might�be�possible�to�find�a�boat�
52�
The�Door�in�the�Wall�and�Other�Stories�
or�something,�and�take�once�more�to�sea.�And�there�it�was�the�battle�
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