Having arrived at the one extreme of mechanical selflessness, we
immediately embrace the other extreme of the transcendent Self. But we
try to be both at once. We do not cease to be the one before we become
the other. We do not even play the roles in turn. We want to be the
tiger and the deer both in one. Which is just ghastly nothingness. We
try to say, 'The tiger is the lamb and the lamb is the tiger.' Which is
nil, nihil, nought.
The padrone took me into a small room almost contained in the thickness
of the wall. There the Signora's dark eyes glared with surprise and
agitation, seeing me intrude. She is younger than the Signore, a mere
village tradesman's daughter, and, alas, childless.
It was quite true, the door stood open. Madame put down the screw-driver
and drew herself erect. Her eyes were a flame of excitement. This
question of a door-spring that made the door fly open when it should
make it close roused a vivid spark in her soul. It was she who was
wrestling with the angel of mechanism.
She was about forty years old, and flame-like and fierily sad. I think
she did not know she was sad.
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