I shall try to tell what Harcamone meant to me, and thereby what Divers meant to me, and above all Bulkaen, whom I still love and who finally indicates my fate to me. Bulkaen is the finger of God; Harcamone is God, since he is in heaven (I am speaking of the heaven I create for myself and to which I am devoted body and soul). Their love, my love for them persists within me, where it acts and stirs my depths, and though what I felt for Harcamone may be mystic, it is none the less violent. I shall try to tell as well as I can what it is about these handsome thugs that charms me, the element which is both light and darkness. I shall do what I can, but all I can say is that “they are a dark brightness or a dazzling darkness.” This is nothing compared to how I feel about it, a feeling which the most worthy novelists express when they write: “The black light . . . the blazing shade . . . ,” trying to achieve in a short poem the living, apparent synthesis of Evil and the Beautiful. Through Harcamone, Divers and Bulkaen I shall again relive Mettray, which was my childhood. I shall revive the abolished reformatory, the children’s hell that has been destroyed.