The Missing Person

On singular occasions when my thoughts should have been better engaged, I detect nothing but a black inanity. A face in the darkness whispers something, and in time his slender personality fades away. The meeting is broken up without a word having been spoken, but the heart has been fed. Moments later, when the scene is evoked during an abstracted loneliness, I recall something of his smile, but even that seems to fade in due time. To me, at all events, my life is to bring nothing more sweet than the smile of this person who played no part in it! Ah! These séances, producing a numbness which makes the head nod and the eyes heavy with sleep!


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