The image of Emma appeared before him, and under her eyes the flood of shame rushed forth anew from his heart. TOUCH THEM NOT, says Christ, FOR THEY ARE THE APPLE OF MY EYE. A world, a glimmer or a flower? Glimmering and trembling, trembling and unfolding, a breaking light, an opening flower, it spread in endless succession to itself, breaking in full crimson and unfolding and fading to palest rose, leaf by leaf and wave of light by wave of light, flooding all the heavens with its soft flushes, every flush deeper than the other. He saw the dark entrance hall of the castle.
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