hawk was passing overhead, ready to attack rat or mouse moving among the
young birches and firs that were springing up in the clearance. The
light was violent, and the priest shaded his eyes. His feet sank in
sand, he tripped over tufts of rough grass, and was glad to get out of
this part of the wood into the shade of large trees.

Trees always interested him, and he began to think of their great roots
seeking the darkness, and of their branches lifting themselves in love
towards the light. He and these trees were one, for there is but one
life, one mother, one elemental substance out of which all has come.
That was it, and his thoughts paused. Only in union is there happiness,
and for many weary months he had been isolated, thrown out; but to-day
he had been drawn suddenly into the general life, he had become again
part of the general harmony, and that was why he was so happy. No better
explanation was forthcoming, and he did not think that a better one was
required--at least, not to-day.

He noticed with pleasure that he no longer tried to pass behind a
thicket nor into one when he met poor wood-gatherers bent under their
heavy loads. He even stopped to speak to a woman out with her children;
the three were breaking sticks across their knees, and he encouraged
them to talk to him. But without his being aware of it, his thoughts
hearkened back, and when it came to his turn to answer he could not
answer. He had been thinking of Nora, and, ashamed of his
absentmindedness, he left them tying up their bundles and went towards
the shore, stopping many times to admire the pale arch of evening sky
with never a wind in it, nor any sound but the cries of swallows in full
pursuit. 'A rememberable evening,' he said, and there was such a
lightness in his feet that he believed, or very nearly, that there were
wings on his shoulders which he only had to open to float away whither