Sometimes at evening they sat in the
little fishing harbour, watching the incoming boats, till the sky grew
sad with rigging and old men's faces.
Then at last Silencieux said: "I am weary of the sea. Let us go to the
town--to the lights and the sad cries of the human waves."
So they went to the town and found a room high up, where they sat at the
window and watched the human lights, and listened to the human music.
Never had it been so wonderful to be together.
For a week Antony lived in heaven. Never had Silencieux been so kind, so
close to him.
"Let us be little children," he said. "Let us do anything that comes
into our heads."
So they ran in and out among pleasures together, joined strange dances
and sang strange songs. They clapped their hands to jugglers and
acrobats, and animals tortured into talent. And sometimes, as the gaudy
theatre resounded about them, they looked so still at each other that
all the rest faded away, and they were left alone with each other's eyes
and great thoughts of God.
"I love you, Silencieux."
"I love you, Antony."
"You will never leave me lonely in my dream, Silencieux?"
"Never, Antony.
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