； a broken barrel…organ was playing； sometimes it quavered and almost stopped； then went on again； like a broken human voice。
I listened： my heart scarcely moved； it was as cold as lead。 I could not bear the long day before me； and I tried to sleep again； yet still I heard the feet upon the pavement。 And suddenly I heard them cry loud as they beat； 〃We are seeking！we are seeking！we are seeking！〃 and the broken barrel…organ at the street corner sobbed； 〃The Beautiful！the Beautiful！ the Beautiful！〃 And my heart； which had been dead； cried out with every throb； 〃Love！Truth！the Beautiful！the Beautiful！〃 It was the music I had heard in Heaven that I could not sing there。
And fully I awoke。
Upon the faded quilt； across my bed a long yellow streak of pale London sunlight was lying。 It fell through my narrow attic window。
I laughed。 I rose。
I was glad the long day was before me。
Paris and London。
End