The night of the storm, the lightning and the thunder are proof enough that nature is beginning to tear itself apart, that it is reaching the extremes of its violent division, and that what she is revealing in this golden flash is a sovereignty that is both her own and something totally other than herself: the sovereignty of a maddened heart which in its solitude has found the limits of the world, which lacerate it, turn it against itself and abolish it at the moment when the fact of having mastered it so entirely gives it the right to identify totally with it.