Jean passed the turnstiles and entered the palace of glass andiron. He was still pursuing his passion, for he associated thebeing he loved with all manifestations of art and luxury. Hemade for the park and went straight to the Egyptian pavilion.
Egypt had filled his dreams from the day when all his thoughtshad been centred on one woman. In the avenue of sphinxes andbefore the painted temple he fell under the glamour that womenof olden days and strange lands exercise on the senses,--on thoseof lovers with especial force. The sanctuary was venerable inhis eyes, despite the vulgar use it was put to as part of theExhibition. Looking at the jewels of Queen Aahotep, who livedand was lovely in the days of the Patriarchs, he pondered sadlyover all that had been in the world and was no more. He picturedin fancy the black locks that had scented this diadem with thesphinx's head, the slim brown arms these, beads of gold and lapislazuli had touched, the shoulders that had worn these vulture'swings, the peaked bosoms these chains and gorgets had confined,the breast that had once communicated its warmth to yonder goldscarab?us with the blue wing-cases, the little royal hand thatonce held that poniard by the hilt wrought over with flowersand women's faces. He could not conceive how what was a dream tohim had been a reality for other men. Vainly he tried to followthe lapse of ages. He told himself that another living shapewould vanish in its turn, and it would be for nothing then thatit had been so passionately desired. The thought saddened andcalmed him. He thought, as he stood before these gewgaws fromthe tomb, of all these men who, in the abyss of bygone time,had in turn loved, coveted, enjoyed, suffered, whom death hadtaken, hungry or satiated, and made an end of the appetites ofall alike. A placid melancholy swept over him and held himmotionless, his face buried in his hands.