36
PARTISAN REVIEW
the forest into the valley, or rose and sank in shafts of sunlight like
a hovering, silvery specter; no noise, no movement, not a bird, noth–
ing but the now near, now distant flight of the wind. Also there ap–
peared dots, skeletons of huts, boards covered with straw, black,
earnest in color. The people, taciturn and grave, as though afraid
to disturb the quiet of their valley, greeted them calmly as they
rode by.
Inside the cottages it was lively; everyone crowded around Ober–
lin, who instructed, advised, consoled; trusting glances, prayers every–
where. The people told of dreams, premonitions. Then quickly re–
turned to practical life; paths constructed, channels dug, school at–
tended. Oberlin was indefatigable, Lenz constantly at his side, con–
versing, attending to business or submerged in the scenery. All of it
had a beneficent, soothing effect upon him. Often he was compelled
to look into Oberlin's eyes, and the immense repose communicated to
us by nature at rest, in the midst of a forest, in moonlit, melting
summer nights, seemed even nearer to him in those calm eyes, those
reverend, earnest features. He was shy; but he made remarks, he spoke.
To Oberlin his conversation gave much pleasure and Lenz's graceful
and childish face delighted him....
But only as long as daylight filled the valley could he endure
it; toward evening a strange awe took possession of him, he felt like
running after the sun; gradually, as objects became more shadowy,
all appeared so dreamlike, so antagonistic to him; he was seized with
fear, like children left to sleep in the dark, it seemed to him that he
was blind. Now his terror grew, the nightmare of madness sat at his
feet, the unalterable thought that all was only a dream opened to
him; he clung to every object. Shapes passed swiftly before his eyes,
he tried to hold them; they were shadows, the life was drained out
of him, his limbs were quite paralyzed. He spoke, he sang, he recited
passages from Shakespeare, he clutched at everything that at another
time would have made his blood flow more quickly, he tried every–
thing, but cold, cold! He had to go out into the open air. What little
light he could see strewn through the night, once his eyes had got
used to the darkness, made him feel better; he hurled himself into
the fountain, the stark effect of the water made him feel better;
besides, he had secret hopes of an illness-and now he conducted
his bathing less noisily.
But as he got used to his new way of life he grew calmer. He
