Inland and upland, he and Beatrice should go, ever closer to the kind heart of the land, ever nearer to the forgetful silences of the sky, till huge walls of space were between them and that harp of the sea.

Nor in the whisper of leaves nor in the gloom of forests should the thought of Silencieux beset them.

The earth that held least of her--to that earth they would go; the earth that rose nearest to heaven.
Beauty indeed should be theirs--the Beauty of Nature and Love; no more the vampire's beauty of Art.
It was strange to each how their souls lightened as the valleys of the world folded away behind them, and the simple slopes mounted in their path.

In that pure unladen air which so exhilarated their very bodies, there seemed some mysterious property of exhilaration for the soul also.
One might have dreamed that just to breathe on those heights all one's days would be to grow holy by the more cleansing power of the air.

With such bright currents ever running through the brain, surely one's thoughts would circle there white as stones at the bottom of a spring.
"O Antony," said Beatrice, "why were we so long in finding the hills ?" "We found them once before, Beatrice--do you remember ?" "Yes! You have not forgotten ?" said Beatrice, with the ray of a lost happiness in her eyes--lost, and yet could it be dawning again?
There was a morning star in Antony's face.
"And then," said Antony, "we went into the valley--the Valley of Beauty and Death." Beatrice pressed his hand and looked all her love at him for comfort.