"Before a background of snow, a tall, beautiful Being. Hissings of death and circles of muffled music cause this adored body to rise, to spread and to tremble like a spectre; scarlet and black wounds break out on the forious flesh. The true colours of life fuse, dance and separate around the vision of the stocks. And tremors arise and growl, and the frenzied favour of these effects charged with the mortal hissing and the raucous music which the word, far behind us, casts on our mother of beauty, recoils and rears up. Oh! Our bones are re-clad in a new loving body. The ash-gray face, the shield of horsehair, the crystal arms! The cannon on which I must subside through the tangle of trees and soft air!"