He was soon at some distance from me, still breathing hard and again with the air, though now without anger for it, of being confined against his will. To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life! A wild angel had appeared to him, the angel of mortal youth and beauty, an envoy from the fair courts of life, to throw open before him in an instant of ecstasy the gates of all the ways of error and glory. I say courage because I was beyond all doubt already far gone. O, the wild rose blossoms On the little green place.