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ur planet was merciful and fruitful。
But a cruel light has blazed； and our sight has been sharpened。 The plane has taught us to travel as the crow flies。 Scarcely have we taken off when we abandon these winding highways that slope down to watering troughs and stables or run away to towns dreaming in the shade of their trees。 Freed henceforth from this happy servitude； delivered from the need of fountains； we set our course for distant destinations。 And then； only； from the height of our rectilinear trajectories； do we discover the essential foundation； the fundament of rock and sand and salt in which here and there and from time to time life like a little moss in the crevices of ruins has risked its precarious existence。
We to whom humble journeyings were once permitted have now been transformed into physicists； biologists； students of the civilizations that beautify the depths of valleys and now and again； by some miracle； bloom like gardens where the climate allows。 We are able to judge man in cosmic terms； scrutinize him through our portholes as through instruments of the laboratory。 I remember a few of these scenes。
I
The pilot flying towards the Straits of Magellan sees below him； a little to the south of the Gallegos River； an ancient lava flow； an erupted waste of a thickness of sixty feet that crushes down the plain on which it has congealed。 Farther south he meets a second flow； then a third； and thereafter every hump on the globe； every mound a few hundred feet high； carries a crater in its flank。 No Vesuvius rises up to reign in the clouds； merely； flat on the plain； a succession of gaping howitzer mouths。
This day； as I fly； the lava world is calm。 There is something surprising in the tranquility of this deserted landscape where once a thousand volcanoes boomed to each other in their great subterranean organs and spat forth their fire。 I fly over a world mute and abandoned； strewn with black glaciers。
South of these glaciers there are yet older volcanoes veiled with the passing of time in a golden sward。 Here and there a tree rises out of a crevice like a plant out of a cracked pot。 In the soft and yellow light the plain appears as luxuriant as a garden； the short grass seems to civilize it； and round its giant throats there is scarcely a swelling to be seen。 A hare scampers off； a bird wheels in the air； life has taken possession of a new planet where the decent loam of our earth has at last spread over the surface of the star。
Finally； crossing the line into Chile； a little north of Punta Arenas； you e to the last of the craters； and here the mouths have been stopped with earth。 A silky turf lies snug over the curves of the volcanoes； and all is suavity in the scene。 Each fissure in the crust is sutured up by this tender flax。 The earth is smooth； the slopes are gentle； one forgets the travail that gave them birth。 This turf effaces from the flanks of the hillocks the sombre sign of their origin。
We have reached the most southerly habitation of the world； a town born of the chance presence of a little mud between the timeless lava and the austral ice。 So near the black scoria； how thrilling it is to feel the miraculous nature of man！ What a strange encounter！ Who knows how； or why； man visits these gardens ready to hand； habitable for so short a time … a geologic age … for a single day blessed among days？
I landed in the peace of evening。 Punta Arenas ！ I leaned against a fountain and looked at the girls in the square。 Standing there within a couple of feet of their grace； I felt more poignantly than ever the human mystery。
In a world in which life so perfectly responds to life； where flowers mingle with flowers in the wind's eye； where the swan is the familiar of all swans； man alone builds his isolation。 What a space between men their spiritual natures create！ A girl's reverie isolates her from me； and how shall I enter into it？ What can one know of a girl who passes； walking with slow steps homeward； eyes lowered； smiling to herself； filled with adorable inventions and with fables？ Out of the thoughts； the voice； the silences of a lover； she can form an empire； and thereafter she sees in all the world but him a people of barbarians。 More surely than if she were on another planet； I feel her to be locked up in her language； in her secret； in her habits； in the singing echoes of her memory。 Born yesterday of the volcanoes； of greenswards； of brine of the sea； she walks here already half divine。
Punta Arenas ！ I lean against a fountain。 Old women e up to draw water： of their drama I shall know nothing but these gestures of farm servants。 A child； his head against a wall； weeps in silence： there will remain of him in my memory only a beautiful child forever inconsolable。 I am a stranger。 I know nothing。 I do not enter into their empires。 Man in the presence of man is as solitary as in the face of a wide winter sky in which there sweeps； never to be tamed； a flight of trumpeting geese。
How shallow is the stage on which this vast drama of human hates and joys and friendships is played！ Whence do men draw this passion for eternity； flung by chance as they are upon a scarcely cooled bed of lava； threatened from the beginning by the deserts that are to be； and under the constant menace of the snows？ Their civilizations …are but fragile gildings： a volcano can blot them out； a new sea； a sand…storm。
This town seemed to be built upon a true humus； a soil one might imagine to be as rich as the wheatlands of the Beauce。 These men live heedless of the fact that； here as elsewhere； life is a luxury； and that nowhere on the globe is the soil really rich beneath the feet of men。
Yet； ten miles from Punta Arenas there is a lake that ought to be reminding them of this。 Surrounded by stunted trees and squat huts； as modest as a pool in a farm…yard； this lake is subject to the preternatural pull of the tides。 Night and day； among the peaceful realities of swaying reeds and playing children； it performs its slow respiration； obedient to unearthly laws。 Beneath the glassy surface； beneath the motionless ice； beneath the keel of the single dilapidated bark on the waters； the energy of the moon is at work。 Ocean eddies stir in the depths of this black mass。 Strange digestions take their peristaltic course there and down as far as the Straits of Magellan； under the thin layer of grasses and flowers。 This lake that is a hundred yards wide； that laps the threshold of a town which seems to be built on man's own earth and where men believe themselves secure； beats with the pulse of the sea。
II
But by the grace of the airplane I have known a more extraordinary experience than this； and have been made to ponder with even more bewilderment the fact that this earth that is our home is yet in truth a wandering star。
A minor accident had forced me down in the Rio de Oro region； in Spanish Africa。 Landing on one of those table…lands of the Sahara which fall away steeply at the sides； I found myself on the flat top of the frustum of a cone； an isolated vestige of a plateau that had crumbled round the edges。 In this part of the Sahara such truncated cones are visible from the air every hundred miles or so； their smooth surfaces always at about the same altitude above the desert and their geologic substance always identical。 The surface sand is posed of minute and distinct shells； but progressively as you dig along a vertical section； the shells bee more fragmentary； tend to cohere； and at the base of the cone form a pure calcareous deposit。
Without question； I was the first human being ever to wander over this 。 。 。 this iceberg： its sides were remarkably steep； no Arab could have climbed them； and no European had as yet ventured into this wild region。
I was thrilled by the virginity of a soil which no step of man or beast had sullied。 I lingered there； startled by this silence that never had been broken。 The first star began to shine； and I said to myself that this pure surface had lain here thousands of years in sight only of the stars。
But suddenly my musings on this white sheet and these shining stars were endowed with a singular significance。 I had kicked against a hard； black stone； the size of a man's fist； a sort of moulded rock of lava incredibly present on the surface of a bed of shells a thousand feet deep。 A sheet spread beneath an apple…tree can receive only apples； a sheet spread beneath the stars can receive only star…dust。 Never had a stone fallen from the skies made known its origin so unmistakably。
And very naturally； raising my eyes； I said to myself that from the height of this celestial apple…tree there must have dropped other fruits； and that I should find them exactly where they fell； since never from the beginning of time had anything been present to displace them。
Excited by my adventure； I picked up one and then a second and then a third of these stones； finding them at about the rate of one stone to the acre。 And here is where my adventure became magical； for in a striking foreshortening of time that embraced thousands of years； I had bee the witness of this miserly rain from the stars。 The marvel of mar