Chapter XLI: Vicisti Galilæe

Down a path in the wood she came singing. The path on which she walked was itself like a song under leaves like music. The path was the echo of the song, or the song of the path. It does not matter. This was before music and the world made of music had fallen apart.

His shadow fell on the path. The song stopped; the path grew still.

“It is quiet, quiet,” she said.

“It is love,” said he.

“Something has died,” she whispered.

“And has risen from the dead,” he cried, drawing very close. “Love has conquered death.”

“Alas,” she said, taking his hand and kissing it, “before love came there was no death to conquer.”

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.