Under a great gray sky, in a great powdery plain without roads, without
grass, without a thistle, without a nettle, I met several men who were
walking with heads bowed down.
Each one bore upon his back an enormous Chimera, as heavy as a bag of
flour or coal, or the accoutrements of a Roman soldier.
But the monstrous beast was not an inert weight; on the contrary, it
enveloped and oppressed the man with its elastic and mighty muscles; it
fastened with its two vast claws to the breast of the bearer, and its
fabulous head surmounted the brow of the man, like one of those horrible
helmets by which the ancient warriors hoped to increase the terror of
the enemy.
I questioned one of these men, and I asked him whither they were bound
thus. He answered that he knew not, neither he nor the others; but that
evidently they were bound somewhere, since they were impelled by an
irresistible desire to go forward.
It is curious to note that not one of these travelers looked irritated
at the ferocious beast suspended from his neck and glued against his
back; it seemed as though he considered it as making part of himself.
None of these weary and serious faces bore witness to any despair; under
the sullen cupola of the sky, their feet plunging into the dust of a
soil as desolate as that sky, they went their way with the resigned
countenances of those who have condemned themselves to hope forever.
The procession passed by me and sank into the horizon's atmosphere,
where the rounded surface of the planet slips from the curiosity of
human sight, and for a few moments I obstinately persisted in wishing to
fathom the mystery; but soon an irresistible indifference fell upon me,
and I felt more heavily oppressed by it than even they were by their
crushing Chimeras.