There he was! In a strange
uplift of elation she saw him, the being never to be revealed, awful in
its potency, mystic and real. This dark, subtle reality of him, never
to be translated, liberated her into perfection, her own perfected
being. She too was dark and fulfilled in silence.
He came out, throwing some packages into the car.
'There is some bread, and cheese, and raisins, and apples, and hard
chocolate,' he said, in his voice that was as if laughing, because of
the unblemished stillness and force which was the reality in him. She
would have to touch him. To speak, to see, was nothing. It was a
travesty to look and to comprehend the man there. Darkness and silence
must fall perfectly on her, then she could know mystically, in
unrevealed touch. She must lightly, mindlessly connect with him, have
the knowledge which is death of knowledge, the reality of surety in
not-knowing.
Soon they had run on again into the darkness. She did not ask where
they were going, she did not care.
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