They struck against it, but it was moveless, and in the
church, if church there were above, none in the dead night to hear
them. They came down the stair, and through a small, half-blocked
doorway stumbled into a labyrinth of passages and narrow chambers.
They found old pieces of wood--what had been a wine-cask, what might
have had other uses. They broke these into torch lengths, lighting one
from another as that burned down. These underways did not seem wholly
neglected, buried, and forgotten. There lacked any total blocking or
demolition, and there was air. But intricacy and uncertainty reigned.
The mood of the amphitheater when they had sat side by side claimed
them still. There had been a reversion or a coming into fresh space
where quarrel faded like a shadow before light. The light was a
golden, hazy one, made up of myriads of sublimed memories,
associations, judgments, conclusions. Nothing defined emerged from it;
it was simply somewhat golden, somewhat warm light, as from a sun well
under the horizon--a kind of dreamy well-being as of old Together,
unquestioning Acceptance. Suddenly aroused, each might have cried,
"For the moment--it was for a moment only!" Then, for the moment,
there was return, with addition. It came like a winged force from the
bounds of doing or undoing. While it lasted it imposed upon them
quieted minds, withdrew any seeming need for question.
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