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- 6115
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- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.921Z
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- 6059
- text
- VII.
As Pierre went on through the woods, all thoughts now left him but those
investing Isabel. He strove to condense her mysterious haze into some
definite and comprehensible shape. He could not but infer that the
feeling of bewilderment, which she had so often hinted of during their
interview, had caused her continually to go aside from the straight line
of her narration; and finally to end it in an abrupt and enigmatical
obscurity. But he also felt assured, that as this was entirely
unintended, and now, doubtless, regretted by herself, so their coming
second interview would help to clear up much of this mysteriousness;
considering that the elapsing interval would do much to tranquilize her,
and rally her into less of wonderfulness to him; he did not therefore
so much accuse his unthinkingness in naming the postponing hour he had.
For, indeed, looking from the morning down the vista of the day, it
seemed as indefinite and interminable to him. He could not bring himself
to confront any face or house; a plowed field, any sign of tillage, the
rotted stump of a long-felled pine, the slightest passing trace of man
was uncongenial and repelling to him. Likewise in his own mind all
remembrances and imaginings that had to do with the common and general
humanity had become, for the time, in the most singular manner
distasteful to him. Still, while thus loathing all that was common in
the two different worlds--that without, and that within--nevertheless,
even in the most withdrawn and subtlest region of his own essential
spirit, Pierre could not now find one single agreeable twig of thought
whereon to perch his weary soul.
Men in general seldom suffer from this utter pauperism of the spirit. If
God hath not blessed them with incurable frivolity, men in general have
still some secret thing of self-conceit or virtuous gratulation; men in
general have always done some small self-sacrificing deed for some other
man; and so, in those now and then recurring hours of despondent
lassitude, which must at various and differing intervals overtake almost
every civilized human being; such persons straightway bethink them of
their one, or two, or three small self-sacrificing things, and suck
respite, consolation, and more or less compensating deliciousness from
it. But with men of self-disdainful spirits; in whose chosen souls
heaven itself hath by a primitive persuasion unindoctrinally fixed that
most true Christian doctrine of the utter nothingness of good works; the
casual remembrance of their benevolent well-doings, does never distill
one drop of comfort for them, even as (in harmony with the correlative
Scripture doctrine) the recalling of their outlived errors and
mis-deeds, conveys to them no slightest pang or shadow of reproach.
Though the clew-defying mysteriousness of Isabel's narration, did now
for the time, in this particular mood of his, put on a repelling aspect
to our Pierre; yet something must occupy the soul of man; and Isabel was
nearest to him then; and Isabel he thought of; at first, with great
discomfort and with pain, but anon (for heaven eventually rewards the
resolute and duteous thinker) with lessening repugnance, and at last
with still-increasing willingness and congenialness. Now he recalled his
first impressions, here and there, while she was rehearsing to him her
wild tale; he recalled those swift but mystical corroborations in his
own mind and memory, which by shedding another twinkling light upon her
history, had but increased its mystery, while at the same time
remarkably substantiating it.
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