THE SEARCHER

When I vanished— it was into darkness; candles were not allowed to be

carried about, and the teacher who forsook the refectory, had only the unlit

hall, schoolroom, or bedroom, as a refuge. In winter I sought the long class-

es, and paced them fast to keep myself warm— fortunate if the moon shone,

and if there were only stars, soon reconciled to their dim gleam, or even to

the total eclipse of their absence. In summer it was never quite dark, and

then I went up-stairs to my own quarter of the long dormitory, opened my

own casement (that chamber was lit by five casements large as great doors),

and leaning out, looked forth upon the city beyond the garden, and listened

to band-music from the park or the palace-square, thinking meantime my

own thoughts, living my own life, in my own still, shadow-world.

This evening, fugitive as usual before the Pope and his works, I mounted