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〃That's why you despise me； isn't it？〃 Jude went on。 〃That's why I'm the woman who stinks of coitus。 Because I lay down with a piece of the same God that you did； and you don't like to be reminded of the fact。〃
〃Don't judge me； woman！〃 Celestine suddenly shouted。
〃Then don't you judge me！ Woman。 I did what I wanted with the man I wanted； and I'm carrying the consequences。 You did the same。 I'm not ashamed of it。 You are。 That's why we're not sisters； Celestine。〃
She'd said her piece； and she wasn't much interested in a further round of insults and denials； so she turned her back and had her hand on the door when Celestine spoke。 There were no denials。 She spoke softly； half lost to memory。
〃It was a city of iniquities；〃 she said。 〃But how was I to know that？ I thought I was blessed among women； to have been chosen。 To be God's…〃
〃Bride？〃 Jude said； turning back from the door。
〃That's a kind word；〃 Celestine said。 〃Yes。 Bride。〃 She drew a deep breath。 〃I never even saw my husband。〃
〃What did you see？〃
〃Nobody。 The city was full； I know it was full； I saw shadows at the window； I saw them close up the doors when I passed； but nobody showed their faces。〃
〃Were you afraid？〃
〃No。 It was too beautiful。 The stones were full of light； and the houses were so high you could barely see the sky。 It was like nothing I'd ever seen。 And I walked； and I walked； and I kept thinking； He'll send an angel for me soon； and I'll be carried to His palace。 But there were no angels。 There was just the city； going on and on in every direction； and I got tired after a time。 I sat down； just to rest for a few minutes； and I fell asleep。〃
〃You fell asleep？〃
〃Yes。 Imagine！ I was in the City of God； and I fell asleep。 And I dreamed I was back at Tyburn； where Dowd had found me。 I was watching a man being hanged； and I dug through the crowd until I was standing under the gallows。〃 She raised her head。 〃I remember looking up at him； kicking at the end of his rope。 His breeches were unbuttoned； and his rod was poking out。〃
The look on her face was all disgust； but she drove herself on to finish the story。
〃And I lay down under him。 I lay down in the dirt in front of all these people； with him kicking； and his rod getting redder and redder。 And as he died he spilled his seed。 I wanted to get up before it touched me； but my legs were open； and it was too late。 Down it came。 Not much。 Just a few spurts。 But I felt every drop inside me like a little fire； and I wanted to cry out。 But I didn't； because that was when I heard the voice。〃 。
〃What voice？〃
〃It was in the ground underneath me。 Whispering。〃
〃What did it say？〃
〃The same thing； over and over again： Nisi Nirvana； Nisi Nirvana。 Nisi。。。 Nirvana。〃
In the process of repeating the words； tears began to flow copiously。 She made no attempt to stem them； but the repetition faltered。
〃Was it Hapexamendios talking to you？〃 Jude asked。
Celestine shook her head。 〃Why should） He speak to me？ He had what He needed。 I'd lain down and dreamed while He dropped His seed。 He was already gone； back to His angels。〃
〃So who was it？〃
〃I don't know。 I've thought about it over and over。 I even made it into a story； to tell the child； so that when I'd gone he'd have the mystery for himself。 But I don't think I ever really wanted to know。 I was afraid my heart would burst if I ever knew the answer。 I was afraid the heart of the world would burst。〃
She looked up at Jude。
〃So now you know my shame；〃 she said。
〃I know your story；〃 said Jude。 〃But I don't see any reason for shame。〃
Her own tears； which she'd been holding back since Celestine had begun to share this horror with her； fell now； flowing a little for the pain she felt and a little for the doubt that still churned in her； but mostly for the smile that came onto Celestine's face when she heard Jude's reply； and for the sight of the other woman opening her arms and crossing the room； to embrace her like a loved one who'd been lost and found again before some final fire。
22
If ing to the moment of Reconciliation had been for Gentle a series of rememberings； leading him back to himself； then the greatest of those rememberings； and the one he was least prepared for； was the Reconciliation itself。
Though he'd performed the working before； the circumstances had been radically different。 For one； there'd been all the hoopla of a grand event。 He'd gone into the circle like a prizefighter； with an air of congratulation hanging around his head before he'd even worked up a sweat； his patrons and admirers a cheering throng at the sidelines。 This time he was alone。 For another； he'd had his eyes on what the world would shower on him when the work was done： what women would fall to him； what wealth and glory would e。 This time； the prize in sight was a different thing entirely； and wouldn't be counted in stained sheets and coinage。 He was the instrument of a higher and wiser power。
That fact took the fear away。 When he opened his mind to the pfocess； he felt a calm e upon him； subduing the unease he'd felt climbing the stairs。 He'd told Jude and Clem that forces would run through the house the likes of which its bricks had never known； and it was true。 He felt them fuel his weakening mind； ushering his thoughts out of his head to gather the Dominion to the circle。
That gleaning began with the place he was sitting in。 His mind spread to all pass points； and up and down； to have the sum of the room。 It was an easy space to grasp。 Generations of prison poets had made the analogies for him； and he borrowed them freely。 The walls were his body's limits； the door his mouth； the windows his eyes： monplace similitudes； taxing his power of parison not a jot。 He dissolved the boards； the plaster； the glass； and all the thousand tiny details in the same lyric of confinement and； having made them part of him； broke their bounds to stray farther afield。
As his imagination headed down the stairs and up onto the roof； he felt the beginnings of momentum。 His intellect； dogged by literalism； was already lagging behind a sensibility more mercurial； which was delivering back to him similitudes for the whole house before his logical faculties had even reached the hallway。
Once again； his body was the measure of all things： the cellar； his bowels； the roof； his scalp； the stairs； his spine。 Their proofs delivered； his thoughts flew out of the house； rising up over the slates and spreading through the streets。 He gave passing consideration to Sartori as he went； knowing his other was out here in the night somewhere； skulking。
But his mind was quicksilver； and too exhilarated by its speed and capacity to go searching in the shadows for an enemy already defeated。
With speed came ease。 The streets were no more difficult to claim than the house he'd already devoured。 His body had its conduits and its intersections； had its places of excrement and its fine； dandified facades； had its rivers； moving from a springing place； and its parliament； and its holy seat； The whole city； he began to see； could be analogized to his flesh； bone； and blood。 And why should that be so surprising？ When an architect turned his mind to the building of a city； where would he look for inspiration？ To the flesh where he'd lived since birth。 It was the first model for any creator。 It was a school and an eating house and an abattoir and a church； it could be a prison and a brothel and Bedlam。 There wasn't an edifice in any street in London that hadn't begun somewhere in the private city of an architect's anatomy； and all Gentle had to do was open his mind to that fact and the districts were his； running back to swell the assembly in his head。
He flew north； through Highbury and Finsbury Park； to Palmer's Green and Cockfosters。 He went east with the river； past Greenwich； where the clock that marked the ing of midnight stood； and on towards Tilbury。 West took him through Marylebone and Hammersmith； south through Lambeth and Streatham； where he'd first met Pie 'oh' pah； long ago。
But the names soon became irrelevant。 Like the ground seen from a rising plane； the particulars of a street or a district became part of another pattern； even more appetizing to his ambitious spirit。 He saw the Wash glittering to the east； and the Channel to the south； becalmed on this humid night。 Here was a fine new challenge。 Was his body； which had proved the equal of a city； also the measure of this vaster geography？ Why not？ Water flowed by the same laws everywhere； whether the conduit was a groove in his brow or a rift between the continents。 And were his hands not like two countries； laid side by side in his lap； their peninsulas almost touching； their landscapes scarred and grooved？
There was nothing outside his substance that was not mirrored within： no sea； no city； no street； no roof； no room。 He was in the Fifth； and the Fifth in him； gathering to be carried into the Ana as a proof and a map and a poem； written in praise of all things being One。。
In the other Dominions the same pursuit of similitude was under way。
From his circle on the Mount of Lipper Bayak； Tick Raw had already drawn into his net of dissolution both the city of Pata