These words—precisely because they were perhaps an exaggeration—had the faith and with it the wings of adventure. “Good night!” Agathe said unexpectedly, and took them with her. She had released herself and pulled the curtains shut so hastily that the picture of the two of them standing in the moonlight vanished as if at one blow; and before Ulrich turned on the light, Agathe succeeded in finding her way out of the room.

Ulrich gave her more time: “Tonight you will sleep as impatiently as before the start of a great excursion!” he called after her.

“I do want that!” was what he heard as the door closed.

30

MOONBEAMS BY DAYLIGHT

When they saw each other again in the morning, it was at first from a distance like coming upon an uncommon painting in an ordinary house, or even like sighting a significant sculpture among the haphazard displays of nature: unexpectedly, from the liquid lowlands of existence, an island of meaning, an elevation and condensing of spirit, comes to light in sensuous manifestation. But when they approached each other, they were embarrassed, and all that was to be felt of the previous night in their glances was the tiredness that was now shading them with tender warmth.

Who knows, by the way, whether love would be so admired if it wasn’t tiring! When they became aware of the aching aftermath of the previous night’s excitement, it made them happy again, the way lovers are proud of having nearly died of pleasure. Still, the joy they found in each other was not only such a feeling but also an arousal of the eye: The colors and shapes that presented themselves were diffuse and bottomless and yet starkly prominent, like a bouquet of flowers drifting on dark water. They were more clearly delineated than usual, but in a way that made it impossible to say whether this was due to the distinctness of the appearance or to its underlying emotion. This impression was as much part of the compact sphere of perception and attention as it belonged to the ambiguous domain of feeling; and that was precisely what caused it to hover between inside and outside, as a held breath hovers between inhalation and exhalation, and made it hard to discern, in peculiar contrast to its intensity, whether it belonged to the physical world or merely owed its existence to the heightening of inner participation. Nor did either of them wish to make this distinction, for a kind of shame of reason held them back; and for a long time afterward it still forced them to keep a distance from each other, even though their sensitivity was lasting and could well give rise to the belief that the course of the boundaries between them, as well as between them and the world, might have suddenly undergone some slight change.