Why should I be like a bird hovering over it all?
Why should not I--and you--be in it? If I can only cease to be as I have
always been, I can recreate London for myself, and make it a live city,
fearing neither its vices nor its tears. I have made you fear them,
Julian. I have done you an injury. Let us be quiet, and feel the rustle
of spring over the gas-lamps, and hear the pulsing of the hearts around
us."
He put his arm through Julian's as they leaned out on the sill of the
window, and to Julian his arm was like a line of living fire, compelling
that which touched it to a speechless fever of excitement. Was this man
Valentine? Julian's pulses throbbed and hammered as he looked upon the
street, and he seemed to see all the passers-by with eyes from which
scales had fallen. If to die should be nothing to the wise man, to live
should be much. Underneath, two drunken men passed, embracing each other
by the shoulders. They sang in, snatches and hiccoughed protestations of
eternal friendship. Valentine watched their wavering course with no
disgust. His blue eyes even seemed to praise them as they went.
"Those men are more human than I," he slowly said. "Why should I condemn
them?"
And, as if under the influence of a spell, Julian found himself thinking
of the wandering ruffians as fine fellows, full of warmth of heart and
generous feeling.
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