ld or a mantle. He seeme

d happy as one is only in the supreme moments of existence, his face overflowing with joy and adoration. So must they have stood, the First Born of a humanity still in childbirth when the spirit of MAN UNCREATED rose in thunder and flames over the eviscerated world; so must they have prayed in the catacombs, those skel

etons to whom it is written that MAN himself appeared. He joined his hands and his eyes kindled. His face became transfixed and closed. But the more he withdrew into himself, the more I had the impression that a strange and legible emotion radiated physically from him. He moved

two or three times. And each time his eyes, which had become almost fixed, returned to a point next to him, as if he wanted to be aware of something that was to

• be feared. But I realized that what he might be afraid of was falling short of the respect he owed to God, through some sort of negligence. And I observed two very important things: the first-was that the Tarahumara Indian does not attach the same value to his body that we Europeans do, and that he has an entirely different notion of it. "It isn't I at all," he seemed to say, "who am this body," and when he turned to stare at something next to him it was his body itself that he seemed to examine and observe. Wher
• e I am myself and what I am, it is Ciguri who tells it to me and dictates it to me, and you who lie and disobey. What I feel in reality you are never willing to feel, and you give me contrary sensations. You
• want nothing of what I want. And what you propose to me most of the time is Evil. You have been nothing but a transitory ordeal and a burden. Someday I shall command you to leave when Ciguri himself will be free, but," he said suddenly, weepi