“Ellis! Ellis! you* who are not the one whom I have found; sweet Ellis, is it here that you have been waiting for me? I would go still farther, but I am waiting for you to speak—and all will soon be over.”

I sought her lost figure—and my soul spoke its prayer. Then the night reclaimed its silence, and all its serenity.

Then why await the dawn? No one knows when it will come. There is no time for waiting. After sleeping for a little while, we set out by night for the pole.

Deposits of pure gypsum! Salt quarries! Tombstone-white marble! Mical All is whiteness in the dark. Light hoarfrosts, smiling by day and flashing like gems by night! Snowdrifts! Congealed avalanches! Dunes of moondust, eider feathers on sea foam, icecaps with taciturn hopes!

The hours glided by as we walked slowly through the snow; our grave, unhurried gestures emphasized the solemnity of our undertaking. Thus all seven of us—Alain, Axel, Morgain, Nathanaël, Ydier, Eric and I—moved toward our tasks.

Eric and the others were sleeping; the hut was calm; outside, a starless night on the vast rimy plain; above the plain, because of its whiteness, the night had grown somewhat pale; a faint gleam rimmed the earth; I sought a place to pray. As I was kneeling and beginning my prayer, I saw Ellis. She was sitting on a rock nearby, pensive; her dress was snow-covered, her hair blacker than the night.

“Ellis! So it is you,” I sobbed. “Oh, I knew it was you!”

But she remained silent, and I said to her:

“Do you know what sad experiences I have lived through since I lost you? What desolate regions I have crossed since your hand ceased to guide me? One day, on the bank of a stream, I thought I had again found you, but it was only a woman. Oh, forgive me! I have longed for you for so long. Where will you lead me now through this night near the pole, Ellis, my sister?”

“Come,” she said to me. And taking me by the hand, she led me to the top of a tall rock from which the sea was visible. I looked, and suddenly the night was torn asunder as a vast aurora borealis spread out over the waves. It was reflected in the sea; there was a silent trickling of phosphorus, a calm precipitation of flashes; and the silence of these astounding splendors was like the voice of God.* It seemed that the purple and pink flames, incessantly agitated, were a palpitation of the Divine Will. All was silent; my dazzled eyes closed; but Ellis put her finger on my eyelids, and when I opened my eyes, I could no longer see anything except her.

“Urien! Urien, sad brother! You who have always dreamed only of me! Remember the games we once played. Why did you have the urge in a moment of boredom to chase after my fortuitous image? You must have known that that was neither the time nor the place to possess. I await you beyond time, where the snows are eternal; we shall have crowns of snow, not garlands of flowers. Your voyage will come to an end, my brother. Never look toward the past. There are still other lands, lands which you have never known and will never know. What would it have availed you to know them? For each the route is unique and each route leads to God. But it is not from this life that your eyes can see His glory. You spoke cruel words to the poor child whom you mistook for me—and how could you have made that mistake? Then you abandoned her. She was not alive; you created her; now you must wait for her; for she could not ascend alone to the city of God. Oh! I wanted us, both of us, to take the starry route, together, alone, to the pure lights. You must guide the other one. Both of you will complete your voyage; but this end is not the true one; nothing achieves completion, my brother, except in God; be not dismayed, therefore, if you think that you are on the verge of death. Behind one heaven is another; behind all of them is God. Beloved brother, hold fast to your Hope.”

Then, bending over, she wrote on the snow in glowing letters words which I, kneeling, was able to read:

THEY HAVE NOT YET OBTAINED WHAT GOD HAD PROMISED THEM—THAT ONLY IN COMPANY WITH US SHOULD THEY REACH PERFECTION.1

I wanted to speak to her, to ask her to speak to me at greater length, and I reached out toward her; but in the dead of night she pointed to the aurora and, rising slowly like an angel laden with prayers again set out on the seraphic route. As she rose her dress changed into a nuptial gown; I saw that it was fastened with jeweled pins; it glittered with stones; and although their brilliancy was such that it might have consumed my eyelashes, I did not feel the searing heat because of the celestial sweetness that flowed from her outstretched hands.