A sudden passionate fury of longing woke in her to have one week, one
day, one hour of life, one hour of life now that her eyes were open, one
moment only--even one moment. She felt that she had had nothing, that
every other human being must have known the /dolcezza/, the ineffable,
the mysterious ecstasy, the one and only thing worth the having, that she
alone had been excluded, when she was beautiful, from the participation
in joy that was her right, and that now, in her ugliness, she was
irrevocably cast out from it.
It was unjust. Suddenly she faced a God without justice in His heart,
all-powerful and not just. She faced such a God and she knew Hell.
Swiftly she turned from the balustrade, went to the door by the
waterfall, unlocked it and descended the stone staircase. It was very
dark. She had to feel her way. When she reached the last step she could
just see the boat lying against it in the black water. She put out her
hand and felt for the ring through which the rope was slipped. The rope
was wet. It took her some minutes to undo it. Then she got into the boat.
Her eyes were more accustomed to the darkness now, and she could see the
arched opening which gave access to the lake. She found the oars, pushed
them into the rowlocks, and pulled gently to the opening. The boat struck
against the wall and grated along it. She stood up and thrust one hand
against the stone, leaning over to the side.
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