CHAPTER VThe walls were as smooth as the walls of a stone prison, the windows as high and narrow. But it was not a prison and could never be.
Duke paced the floor of the high-arching meditation cell, drawing strength from its severity, its bareness. There was no furniture at all in the cell, not even a chair. The walls mirrored Duke’s image as he paced and the image seemed almost to become momentarily that of a human monk, dedicated to austerity.
Nothing carnal can into this high sanctuary intrude…
The balance, he thought, the occasional swing of the pendulum from joy to complete austerity. Yes, it has its therapeutic value. But we are not foolish enough to regard it as an end in itself. What it does is strip the mind bare, harden and toughen the will. But there are other, better ways…
