"[...]save two poor women, asleep, their feet on the bars of chairs, their heads on their knees. Leaning forward a little, he saw, hanging above him in a dark chapel, the light of a lamp, like a ruby in its red glass; no sound save the military tread of the Suisse, making his round in the distance. Durtal sat down again; the sweetness of his solitude was enhanced by the aromatic perfume of wax, and the memories, now faint, of incense, but it was suddenly broken. As the first chords crashed on the organ Durtal recognized the "Dies irae," that despairing hymn of the Middle Ages; instinctively he bowed his head and listened. This was no more as in the "De Profundis" an humble supplication, a suffering which believes it has been[...].""
- Paperback | 294 pages
- 152.4 x 228.6 x 13.97mm | 430.91g
- 10 Mar 2015
- Createspace Independent Publishing Platform
- United States
- black & white illustrations