'
'In all and any. The best moments of life are those when we
contemplate beauty in the purely artistic spirit--objectively. I
have had such moments in Greece and Italy; times when I was a
free spirit, utterly remote from the temptations and harassings
of sexual emotion. What we call love is mere turmoil. Who
wouldn't release himself from it for ever, if the possibility
offered?'
'Oh, there's a good deal to be said for that, of course.'
Reardon's face was illumined with the glow of an exquisite
memory.
'Haven't I told you,' he said, 'of that marvellous sunset at
Athens? I was on the Pnyx; had been rambling about there the
whole afternoon. For I dare say a couple of hours I had noticed a
growing rift of light in the clouds to the west; it looked as if
the dull day might have a rich ending. That rift grew broader and
brighter--the only bit of light in the sky. On Parnes there were
white strips of ragged mist, hanging very low; the same on
Hymettus, and even the peak of Lycabettus was just hidden. Of a
sudden, the sun's rays broke out. They showed themselves first in
a strangely beautiful way, striking from behind the seaward hills
through the pass that leads to Eleusis, and so gleaming on the
nearer slopes of Aigaleos, making the clefts black and the
rounded parts of the mountain wonderfully brilliant with golden
colour.
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