There was no flame; there could have been
no flame where Margaret stood. She was too pure. What can fire have to do
with snow? Cuckoo, I was a fool. Catch hold of my arm."
He pulled her arm roughly through his, never noticing how pale the girl's
face was, how horror-stricken were her eyes. He wanted to bathe himself,
and her, and Valentine, in this crowd that influenced him and that he
helped to influence. He felt as the diver feels, who, when he plunges,
has a sacred passion for the depths. There are people who have an ardour
for going down comparable to the ardour felt by those who mount. Tonight
such an ardour took hold of Julian.
Valentine fell in with it, seeing the humour of his friend, and Cuckoo,
prisoned between the two men, did not attempt to resist them. As they
moved on Valentine said, in a voice he made loud that it might be heard:
"Now, you feel the strength of the spring, Julian. Is it not better than
all my teachings of asceticism?"
"Yes, by ----, it is."
And as he made that answer, Julian, for the first time, forgot to look
up to Valentine, and felt a splendid equality with him, the equality
that men of the same age and temper feel when they are bent on the same
pursuit. How can one of two Bacchanals stoop in adoration of the other,
when both are bounding in the procession of Silenus? Valentine fell from
his pedestal and became a comrade instead of a god.
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