For I had walked
far enough and was cold and tired, and it seemed to me that it would be
well to find shelter for the night and a place to settle down in for a
season.
"Burbage," he answered, pointing the way to it.
And when I came to it, and walked slowly and thoughtfully the entire
length of its one long street or road, my sister said to me:
"Yet another old ancient village!" and then, with a slight tremor in
her voice, "And you are going to stay in it!"
"Yes," I replied, in a tone of studied indifference: but as to whether
it was ancient or not I could not say; - I had never heard its name
before, and knew nothing about it: doubtless it was characteristic -
"That weary word," she murmured.
- But it was neither strikingly picturesque, nor quaint, nor did I wish
it were either one or the other, nor anything else attractive or
remarkable, since I sought only for a quiet spot where my brain might
think the thoughts and my hand do the work that occupied me. A village
remote, rustic, commonplace, that would make no impression on my
preoccupied mind and leave no lasting image, nor anything but a faint
and fading memory.
Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her gloom -
And conquered her scruples and gloom.
