He went back to the city lovingly, because it was built and adorned for
his love. As the metaphysicians insist on the consciousness of the ego as
the implied basis of all thought, so he knew that it was she in whom he
had found himself, and through whom and for whom all the true life
existed. He felt that Annie had taught him the rare magic which had
created the garden of Avallaunius. It was for her that he sought strange
secrets and tried to penetrate the mysteries of sensation, for he could
only give her wonderful thoughts and a wonderful life, and a poor body
stained with the scars of his worship.

It was with this object, that of making the offering of himself a worthy
one, that he continually searched for new and exquisite experiences. He
made lovers come before him and confess their secrets; he pried
into the inmost mysteries of innocence and shame, noting how passion and
reluctance strive together for the mastery. In the amphitheatre he
sometimes witnessed strange entertainments in which such tales as
_Daphnis and Chloe_ and _The Golden Ass_ were performed before him. These
shows were always given at nighttime; a circle of torch-bearers
surrounded the stage in the center, and above, all the tiers of seats
were dark. He would look up at the soft blue of the summer sky, and at
the vast dim mountain hovering like a cloud in the west, and then at the
scene illumined by a flaring light, and contrasted with violent shadows.
The subdued mutter of conversation in a strange language rising from
bench after bench, swift hissing whispers of explanation, now and then a
shout or a cry as the interest deepened, the restless tossing of the
people as the end drew near, an arm lifted, a cloak thrown back, the
sudden blaze of a torch lighting up purple or white or the gleam of
gold in the black serried ranks; these were impressions that seemed
always amazing. And above, the dusky light of the stars, around, the