'I shall never re-establish myself,' said Siegmund as he closed behind
him the dining-room door and went upstairs in the dark. 'I am a family
criminal. Beatrice might come round, but the children's insolent
judgement is too much. And I am like a dog that creeps round the house
from which it escaped with joy. I have nowhere else to go. Why did I
come back? But I am sleepy. I will not bother tonight.' He went into the bathroom and washed himself. Everything he did gave him
a grateful sense of pleasure, notwithstanding the misery of his
position. He dipped his arms deeper into the cold water, that he might
feel the delight of it a little farther. His neck he swilled time after
time, and it seemed to him he laughed with pleasure as the water caught
him and fell away. The towel reminded him how sore were his forehead and
his neck, blistered both to a state of rawness by the sun. He touched
them very cautiously to dry them, wincing, and smiling at his own
childish touch-and-shrink.
Though his bedroom was very dark, he did not light the gas. Instead, he
stepped out into the small balcony. His shirt was open at the neck and
wrists. He pulled it farther apart, baring his chest to the deliciously
soft night. He stood looking out at the darkness for some time. The
night was as yet moonless, but luminous with a certain atmosphere of
light. The stars were small. Near at hand, large shapes of trees rose
up. Farther, lamps like little mushroom groups shone amid an undergrowth
of darkness. There was a vague hoarse noise filling the sky, like the
whispering in a shell, and this breathing of the summer night
occasionally swelled into a restless sigh as a train roared across
the distance.
'What a big night!' thought Siegmund. 'The night gathers everything into
a oneness. I wonder what is in it.' He leaned forward over the balcony, trying to catch something out of the
night. He felt his soul like tendrils stretched out anxiously to grasp a
hold. What could he hold to in this great, hoarse breathing night? A
star fell. It seemed to burst into sight just across his eyes with a
yellow flash. He looked up, unable to make up his mind whether he had
seen it or not. There was no gap in the sky.
'It is a good sign--a shooting star,' he said to himself. 'It is a good
sign for me. I know I am right. That was my sign.' Having assured himself, he stepped indoors, unpacked his bag, and was
soon in bed.