This gleam from the sinister vent-hole dazzled them; this
puff of the sombre vapour inebriated them, and they were
lost, and they were rich.

Wealth is a fatal distant light; woman flies frantically
towards it. This mirror catches this lark.

Wherefore they have been rich. They, too, have had
their day of enchantment, their minute of fête, their
sparkle.

They have had that fever which is fatal to modesty.
They have drained the sonorous cup that is full of
nothingness. They have drunk of the madness of forgetfulness.
What a flattering hope! What temptation! To do nothing
and have everything; a]as! and also to have nothing,
not even one's own self. To be slave-flesh, to be beauty
for sale, a woman fallen to a thing! They have dreamed
and they have had--which is the same thing, complete
possession being but a dream--mansions, carriages, servants in
livery, suppers joyous with laughter, the house of gold,
silk, velvet, diamonds, pearls, life giddy with
voluptuousness--every pleasure.

Oh! how much better is the innocence of those poor little
barefooted ones on the shore of the sea, who hear at
nightfall the tinkling of the cracked bells of the goats on the
cliffs!

There was a disastrous morrow to these brief, perfidious