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TO THE LIGHTHOUSEwhose temper, neither sanguine nor despondent,surveys with equanimity what is to be and faces it,came to his help again. R——The lizard’s eye flickered once more. Theveins on his forehead bulged. The geranium inthe urn became startlingly visible and[∧],displayedamong its leaves[∧],he could see, without wishing it,that old, that obvious distinction between the twoclasses of men,;on the one hand the steady goersof superhuman strength who, plodding andpersevering, repeat the whole alphabet in order,twenty-six letters in all, from start to finish; onthe other the gifted, the inspired who, miracu-lously, lump all the letters [∧]togetherin one flash—the wayof genius. He had not genius; he laid no claim tothat: but he had, or might have had, the powerto repeat every letter of the alphabet from A to Zaccurately in order. Meanwhile, he stuck at Q.On, then, on to R.HB: Blue pencil mark possibly indicating page break in the American edition.Feelings that would not have disgraced aleader who, now that the snow has begun to falland the mountain top is covered in mist, knowsthat he must lay himself down and die beforemorning comes, stole upon him, paling thecolour of his eyes, giving him, even in the twominutes of his turn on the terrace, the bleachedlook of withered old age. Yet he would not dielying down; he would find some crag of rock, and58
