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Digital Signal and Image Processing using MATLAB
Volume 2 Advances and Applications The Deterministic
Case 2nd Edition Gérard Blanchet Digital Instant
Download
Author(s): Gérard Blanchet, Maurice Charbit
ISBN(s): 9781848216419, 1848216416
Edition: 2
File Details: PDF, 5.79 MB
Year: 2015
Language: english
DIGITAL SIGNAL AND IMAGE PROCESSING SERIES

Digital Signal
and Image Processing
using MATLAB®
2nd Edition Revised and Updated
Volume 2 – Advances and Applications
The Deterministic Case

Gérard Blanchet and Maurice Charbit

Digital Signal and Image Processing using MATLAB®
Revised and Updated 2nd Edition

Digital Signal and Image

Processing using MATLAB®

Volume 2
Advances and Applications:
The Deterministic Case

Gérard Blanchet
Maurice Charbit
First published 2015 in Great Britain and the United States by ISTE Ltd and John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as
permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced,
stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers,
or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms and licenses issued by the
CLA. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside these terms should be sent to the publishers at the
undermentioned address:

ISTE Ltd John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

27-37 St George’s Road 111 River Street
London SW19 4EU Hoboken, NJ 07030
UK USA

www.iste.co.uk www.wiley.com

© ISTE Ltd 2015

The rights of Gérard Blanchet and Maurice Charbit to be identified as the authors of this work have been
asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014958256

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-84821-641-9

MATLAB®is a trademark of The MathWorks, Inc. and is used with permission. The MathWorks does not
warrant the accuracy of the text or exercises in this book. This book’s use or discussion of MATLAB®
software does not constitute endorsement or sponsorship by The MathWorks of a particular pedagogical
approach or use of the MATLAB® software.
Contents

Foreword ix

Notations and Abbreviations xi

Chapter 1 Recap on Digital Signal Processing 1

1.1 The sampling theorem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2
1.2 Spectral contents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
1.2.1 Discrete-time Fourier transform (DTFT) . . . . . . . . . 7
1.2.2 Discrete Fourier transform (DFT) . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
1.3 Case of random signals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
1.4 Example of the Dual Tone Multi-Frequency (DTMF) . . . . . . 11

Chapter 2 Additional Information About Filtering 15

2.1 Filter implementation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
2.1.1 Examples of filter structures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
2.1.2 Distributing the calculation load in an FIR filter . . . . 20
2.1.3 FIR block filtering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
2.1.4 FFT filtering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
2.2 Filter banks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
2.2.1 Decimation and expansion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
2.2.2 Filter banks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
2.3 Ripple control . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
2.3.1 Principle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
2.3.2 Programming . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44

Chapter 3 Image Processing 51

3.1 A little geometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51
3.1.1 3D object . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51
3.1.2 Calibration of cameras . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
3.2 Pyramidal decompositions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
3.2.1 Pyramidal decomposition given by Burt and
Adelson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64
vi Digital Signal and Image Processing using MATLAB®

3.2.2 Pyramidal decomposition using a Haar tranformation . 65

3.2.3 Stepwise decomposition (lifting scheme) . . . . . . . . . 66

Chapter 4 Numerical Calculus and Simulation 71

4.1 Simulation of continuous-time systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
4.1.1 Simulation by approximation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
4.1.2 Exact model simulation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
4.2 Solving of ordinary differential equations
(ODEs) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76
4.2.1 Conversion from continuous to discrete time . . . . . . . 76
4.2.2 Linear case, continuous-time solution . . . . . . . . . . . 78
4.2.3 Remarks on the Runge–Kutta methods . . . . . . . . . 81
4.3 Systems of equations and zero-seeking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88
4.3.1 Zeros of a function using the Newton method . . . . . . 88
4.3.2 Roots of a polynomial with the Newton–Raphson method 89
4.3.3 Systems of nonlinear equations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
4.4 Interpolation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
4.4.1 Thiele’s interpolation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92
4.4.2 Another decomposition in continuous fractions . . . . . 95
4.4.3 Natural cubic splines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96
4.5 Solving of linear systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100
4.5.1 Jacobi method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100
4.5.2 Relaxation method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101
4.5.3 Cholesky factorization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102

Chapter 5 Speech Processing 105

5.1 A speech signal model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
5.1.1 Overview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
5.1.2 A typology of vocal sounds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106
5.1.3 The AR model of speech production . . . . . . . . . . . 107
5.1.4 Compressing a speech signal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
5.2 Dynamic Time Warping . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116
5.2.1 The DTW algorithm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117
5.2.2 Examples of pathfinding rules . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118
5.2.3 Cepstral coefficients . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
5.3 Modifying the duration of an audio signal . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
5.3.1 PSOLA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
5.3.2 Phase vocoder . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123
5.4 Eliminating the impulse noise . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124
5.4.1 The signal model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
5.4.2 Click detection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126
5.4.3 Restoration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128
 Contents vii

Chapter 6 Selected Topics 131

6.1 Tracking the cardiac rhythm of the fetus . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
6.1.1 Objectives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
6.1.2 Separating the EKG signals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
6.1.3 Estimating cardiac rhythms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
6.2 Extracting the contour of a coin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
6.3 Constrained optimization and Lagrange
multipliers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146
6.3.1 Equality-constrained optimization . . . . . . . . . . . . 146
6.3.2 Quadratic problem with linear inequality constraints . . 149
6.3.3 Portfolio optimization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
6.4 Principal Component Analysis (PCA) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
6.4.1 Determining the principal components . . . . . . . . . . 164
6.4.2 2-Dimension PCA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168
6.4.3 Linear Discriminant Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170
6.5 GPS positioning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175
6.6 The Viterbi algorithm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178
6.6.1 Convolutional non-recursive encoder . . . . . . . . . . . 179
6.6.2 Decoding and hard decision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181

Chapter 7 Hints and Solutions 187

H1 Reminders on digital signal-processing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187
H2 Additional information on filtering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189
H3 Image Processing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194
H4 Numerical calculus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197
H5 Speech processing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215
H6 Selected topics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231

Chapter 8 Appendix 243

A1 A few properties of a matrix . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243
A2 A few relations for matrices . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246

Bibliography 247

Index 251
Foreword

This book represents the continuation to Digital Signal and Image Process-
ing: Fundamentals. It is assumed that the reader possesses a good knowledge
of the programming language MATLAB® and a command of the fundamen-
tal elements of digital signal processing: the usual transforms (the Discrete
Time Fourier Transform (DTFT), the Discrete Fourier Transform and the
z-Transform), the properties of deterministic and random signals, and digi-
tal filtering. Readers will also need to be familiar with the fundamentals of
continuous-spectrum spectral analysis and have a certain amount of mathe-
matical knowledge concerning vector spaces.
In order to prevent the reading becoming a penance, we will offer a few
reminders of the basics wherever necessary. This book is essentially a collection
of examples, exercises and case studies. It also presents applications of digital
signal- or image processing, and techniques which were not touched upon in
the previous volume.

Recap on digital signal processing

This section is devoted to the definitions and properties of the fundamental
transforms used in digital signal processing: Fourier transform, discrete time
Fourier transform and discrete Fourier transform. It concludes with a classic
example which enables us to put some known results into practice.

Filter implementation
This section deals with the structures of filters, the introduction of parallelism
into the filtering operations (block filtering and filter banks) and, by way of an
example, the Parks–McClellan method for FIR filter synthesis (finite impulse
response).

Image processing
The section given over to images offers a few geometrical concepts relating to
the representation of 3D objects in a 2D space. Therein, we deal with problems
x Digital Signal and Image Processing using MATLAB®

of calibration of cameras. In addition, image compression is also discussed, with

the use of examples (pyramidal decompositions, lifting scheme).

Digital calculus and simulation

This section deals with the algorithms used in most domains in digital process-
ing, and therefore far beyond mere signal processing. It only touches on the
domain using a few examples of methods applied to problems of simulation,
resolution of differential equations, zero-seeking, interpolation and iterative
methods for solving linear systems.

Speech processing
After a brief introduction to speech production, we will discuss the represen-
tation of a speech signal by an autoregressive model, and its application to
compression. Next we will give the descriptions of the techniques widely used
in this field (Dynamic Time Warping and PSOLA) and, finally, an example of
application with “decrackling” for audio recordings.

Selected topics
This last chapter presents case studies that go a little further in depth than
the examples described in the previous sections. “Tracking the cardiac rhythm
of the fetus” and “Extracting the contour of a coin” are classic examples of
the application of the least squares method. Principal component analysis and
linear discriminant analysis are basic methods for the classification of objects
(in a very broad sense).
The section devoted to optimization under constraints could have been part
of the section on numerical methods. The method of Lagrange multipliers is
encountered in a multitude of applications. In terms of applications, we present
the case of optimization of a stock portfolio.
We conclude with the example of the Viterbi algorithm for the hard de-
coding of convolutional codes. This algorithm is, in fact, a particular case for
searching for the shortest possible path in a lattice.
Notations and
Abbreviations

∅ empty set
∑ ∑ ∑
k,n = k n
{
1 when |t| < T /2
rectT (t) =
0 otherwise
sin(πx)
sinc(x) =
{ πx
1 when x ∈ A
1(x ∈ A) = (indicator function of A)
0 otherwise
(a, b] = {x : a < x ≤ b}
{
Dirac distribution when t ∈ R
δ(t)
Kronecker symbol when t ∈ Z
Re(z) real part of z
Im(z) imaginary part of z
⌊x⌋ integer part of x
√
i or j = −1
x(t) ⇌ X(f ) Fourier transform
(x ⋆ y)(t) continuous time convolution
∫
= R x(u)y(t − u)du
(x ⋆ y)(t) discrete time convolution
∑ ∑
= u∈Z x(u)y(t − u) = u∈Z x(t − u)y(u)
dn y(t)
y (n) (t) = , nth order derivative
dtn
xii Digital Signal and Image Processing using MATLAB®

x or x vector x
IN (N × N )-dimension identity matrix
A∗ complex conjugate of A
AT transpose of A
AH transpose-conjugate of A
A−1 inverse matrix of A
A# pseudo-inverse matrix of A

P {X ∈ A} probability that X ∈ A
E {X} expectation value of X
Xc = X − E {X} zero-mean random variable
{ }
var {X} = E |Xc |2 variance of X
E {X|Y } conditional expectation of X given Y

ADC Analog to Digital Converter

ADPCM Adaptive Differential PCM
AR Autoregressive
ARMA AR and MA
BER Bit Error Rate
bps Bits per second
cdf Cumulative distribution function
CF Clipping Factor
CZT Causal z-Transform
DAC Digital to Analog Converter
DCT Discrete Cosine Transform
d.e./de Difference equation
DFT Discrete Fourier Transform
DTFT Discrete Time Fourier Transform
DTMF Dual Tone Multi-Frequency
dsp Digital signal processing/processor
e.s.d./esd Energy spectral density
FIR Finite Impulse Response
FFT Fast Fourier Transform
FT Continuous Time Fourier Transform
 Notations and Abbreviations xiii

IDFT Inverse Discrete Fourier Transform

i.i.d./iid Independent and Identically Distributed
IIR Infinite Impulse Response
ISI InterSymbol Interference
LDA Linear discriminant analysis
lms Least mean squares
MA Moving Average
MAC Multiplication ACcumulation
OTF Optical Transfer Function
PAM Pulse Amplitude Modulation
PCA Principal Component Analysis
p.d. Probability Distribution
ppi Points per Inch
p.s.d./PSD Power Spectral Density
PSF Point Spread Function
PSK Phase Shift Keying
QAM Quadrature Amplitude Modulation
rls Recursive least squares
rms Root mean square
r.p./rp Random process
SNR Signal to Noise Ratio
r.v./rv Random variable
STFT Short Term Fourier Transform
TF Transfer Function
WSS Wide (Weak) Sense Stationary (Second Order) Process
ZOH Zero-Order Hold
ZT z-Transform
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spoke a good word of none. Give and it shall be given you, was his
motto; which being interpreted meant, An’ you give to me, I will e’en
give to you, an interpretation other than is usual to it. The motto
was not likely to bring him any vast satisfaction, though doubtless he
cheated himself into imagining that it did. At all events it was the
one he had chosen, and that to his mind stood for something. You
will perceive, too, that through it he saw himself against mankind,
not mankind against him; that also stood for something. In his way
he was a bit of a thinker. None knew this for certain, as he kept his
thoughts, if he had any, to himself; but he was suspected of them.
This was not in his favour. Thinking is for your student, your
philosopher, your priest, possibly for your lord of the manor. It
comes not into the life of a villain. Work, food, and sleep; sleep,
food, and work are in the natural order of things; mayhap a prayer
or two to Our Lady and the saints, and at the last, death, which,
being more pitiful than life, is not ill welcome.
He had no kith nor kin; no one and nothing for which he cared,
save his bees. Of these he had a goodly store, ten hives set in the
garden behind his hovel,—it was little else. In the summer they
made music around him while he tilled the soil. He found their
droning very pleasant to his ears. By virtue of this goodly possession
he was called Simon of the Bees. The title was dear to him, though
no man dreamed it. Here was the sole thing mankind had ever
bestowed on him which afforded him pleasure; yet, since the
bestowal was of careless custom rather than of charity aforethought,
it was deserving of no reward. Such was his reasoning. It was a
matter of occasional speculation in the village as to whom Simon
would will his bees on his death, having no kin. It remained,
however, speculation; and was like to do so.
On this winter night Simon, warming his hands over the fire, and
muttering now and again to himself, was roused from his muttering
by a blow on the door. He got slowly to his feet, grumbling the
while, and drew back the wooden bolt which made it fast. Without,
in the darkness, he saw a cloaked figure standing in the wind-driven
snow.
 “Shelter, for the love of heaven,” said a man’s voice.
“I am none so sure of the love,” responded Simon, and made to
shut the door. In this he was frustrated by the sudden swaying of
the figure, which fell very prone across his threshhold, feet and legs
without, head and shoulders on the mud floor of the hovel.
“A very unceremonious entry,” grumbled Simon. And he stood for
a moment irresolute. The man could not lie where he was, since his
bulk upon the step made it impossible to close the door. The wind
blew the smoke in eddying waves about the room. In a moment you
could scarce see a hand’s breadth before your face. To push him
without meant his death on a very certainty. Directly or indirectly
Simon had never yet had the murder of a man on his soul, whatever
sins else burdened it. Grumbling more heartily he got his hands
under the man’s arms, and tugged him forward into the room. Then
he made the door fast again.
The smoke now making its way through the hole in the roof, the
air cleared somewhat. Simon looked down upon the prostrate figure.
“An’ he dies within ’twere e’en less pleasant than he died without,”
he muttered. He got water in a horn cup, and held it to the man’s
lips, forcing it between them. In a moment or so the man opened
his eyes, lifted himself feebly on his elbow, and looked around.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“No more original than the rest of men,” muttered Simon. “There
never yet was swooning man but asked his whereabouts on coming
to himself. Doubtless fearing to find himself in a less pleasant place
than he is accustomed to. An’ you would know, you are in the
shelter you demanded.”
“I thank you.”
Simon shrugged his shoulders. “No thanks are due. You forced an
entry.”
“You might have pushed me without.”
 “And have had your death on my soul. ’Twould be a heavier
burden than I’ve a mind for.” He seated himself again by the fire.
The man watched him from the floor.
“Who you are I know not,” said Simon, “where you come from I
care less, but that you must bide here the night is obvious.”
“I am rejoiced you see it so,” was the reply. “My name is
Peregrine, a Jester, at your service. Since I bide here the night
’twere well we were acquainted, in spite of your little caring.”
Simon grunted. “A Jester! A pretty jest it would have been for me
an’ you had died on my threshhold. What caused you swoon?”
“Hunger,” said Peregrine very simply.
Simon looked at him from beneath shaggy eyebrows. Then he got
slowly to his feet. From a shelf he fetched a plate of dark bread.
“Eat,” he said briefly, holding it towards him.
Peregrine fell ravenously upon the coarse food. A moment Simon
watched him, then turned again to the shelf. From it he took a piece
of honeycomb.
“Here,” he said gruffly, “’tis toothsome stuff.”
Peregrine took it from him. “I thank you heartily,” he made reply.
Simon grunted, and went back to his seat. From it he watched
Peregrine devour the bread and honeycomb, lick his fingers of the
sticky sweetness. The simple meal finished, Peregrine looked across
at his host.
“Will you give me your name?” asked Peregrine.
“Simon of the Bees, men call me,” was the reply given with a regal
carelessness. Neither the regality, nor the would-be carelessness of
the answer escaped Peregrine.
“A goodly title,” he responded, “to which I am doubtless indebted
for a sweet meal.”
Simon grunted.
 “I like bees,” said Peregrine.
Simon grunted again. It was his nearest approach to conversation.
Peregrine took it as such.
“Diligent little atoms,” pursued Peregrine, “busy on their own
pursuits. Faithful too; each choosing its own kind of flower it sticks
to it like a true man to his love. Fearing no one, they dislike those
that fear them, and show their dislike accordingly.”
Simon grunted a third time, but approvingly. He found in Peregrine
an observer of his favourites. A silence endured a little space; then
Simon put a question showing interest in his guest. This was marvel,
had Peregrine but known.
“What brought you hither?”
“Humph!” said Peregrine. “That is none too easy a question to
answer. Maybe a dream, maybe a reality. At times I have thought
that which brought me on my wanderings but the airy nothingness
of which dreams are fashioned; at times I have known it for more,
seen in my pursuit the one solid and sane action of my life.”
Simon gave vent to his usual grunt. “You tell me little. What is it
you pursue?”
“A woman.”
“I might have known it.” Simon laughed mockingly.
“She is not as other women,” said Peregrine musing. “She has
quiet eyes.”
“Truly!” said Simon.
“I saw her in a dream,” went on Peregrine. “Now I seek her.”
Again Simon laughed. “On your own showing the quest savours of
madness. A woman with quiet eyes, forsooth, once seen in a young
man’s dream! An’ that is all you have to go on, how think you to find
her?”
“I know not,” said Peregrine very quiet.
 “Madness,” said Simon crossly.
“Mayhap,” smiled Peregrine.
“Sheer madness,” said Simon.
“Quite possible.”
“Huh!” grunted Simon, and relapsed into silence. Now and again
he looked at Peregrine sitting on the mud floor in the dim firelight,
his hands clasped round his knees. From him he looked at the fire,
then back again at the man. Memory, long sleeping, was struggling
to birth in his soul. The lines on his face quivered now and again in
its travail. On a sudden he spoke.
“I was once young.”
“So are all men once,” said Peregrine very softly.
“I too had my dreams,” said Simon gruffly.
“They aid a man,” said Peregrine.
“Maybe, and maybe not. ’Twill aid a man, mayhap, to have a son
and see him grow to manhood. Of what aid is his birth an’ he wither
of some hidden disease in childhood, suffer and die with none but
you to sorrow? To my thinking no hope at all were better than hope
unfulfilled.”
Peregrine mused, his eyes on the glowing turf. “Methinks I find
your simile not over apt. An’ a child of our flesh die, we may see
God’s Hand in the death. An’ a hope of our heart die, mayhap we
are the murderers.”
Simon turned on him half savagely. “Is a mother a murderer that
her babe dies in her arms for lack of the milk in her breasts, an’
she’d give her life’s blood for it would it avail? Methinks you must
look somewhat further.”
Peregrine was silent. Here he found no answer to give.
“Sixty year and more I’ve lived here in this hovel,” went on Simon,
“and never a kindly word spoken to me. I might be the plague itself
for the way men eye me. From boyhood ’twas the same. Mayhap ’tis
something bred in me they shun. Yet, for all that, I nurtured hope
for twenty year; dreamed, as you dream now. At last I had naught
left on which to nourish it. It shrivelled and died. I saw it twist in
agony, for ’twas no easy death. When it was dead I laughed that it
had ever lived. Hope, I tell you, dying in a man’s soul rots there,
turns his soul foul. Better strangle it before it comes to birth. Then
you can rid yourself of it. Later you cannot; and dying it lies there to
canker and decay.” He stopped, and again Peregrine could find no
answer. The wind sighed through the trees without; all else was
silence.
“Did you speak?” asked Simon suddenly.
“No,” said Peregrine startled, “yet methought——”
“Fancy,” said Simon shortly.
“Nay,” said Peregrine listening. “It was as a voice from far off
places. Ego sum resurrectio et vita, it said.”
“The wind sighing in the trees brings voices to a man’s fancy,”
returned Simon crossly.
“And yet—” said Peregrine wondering.
“I too have dreamed,” retorted Simon. “Hope, I tell you, is dead
within my soul. Yet—yet one fancy remains. An’ it be not wholly foul,
an’ there be one spot of sweetness left within it e’er I die, perchance
’twill be carried hence by my singing bees. A mad fancy, and I am
e’en mad to dream it. ’Tis cankered through and through. We have
had enough of jargon for the time. An’ you would sleep, there’s your
couch.” He pointed to a heap of dried bracken in a corner of the
room.
Peregrine rose from the floor, crossed to the bracken, and lay
down. Simon sat motionless by the fire. Without, the wind sighed
among the trees in the valley.
 A sound in the room roused Peregrine the next morning. He
looked up to see Simon standing by the open doorway. Without, the
dim world was carpetted in snow.
“You made good slumber,” said Simon turning and seeing him
awake.
“Exceeding good,” responded Peregrine refreshed and cheerful.
“And how fared you?”
“As needful,” grunted Simon.
“I must onward,” said Peregrine.
“Still mad,” grumbled Simon. “You must eat first.”
He produced more bread and honeycomb. They mealed in silence.
The meal ended, Peregrine got to his feet.
“An’ gratitude were substantial reward,” he said, “you were very
substantially rewarded. ’Tis all I have to offer.”
“’Tis rare enough to be appreciated,” said Simon very grim.
Peregrine laughed. “I bid you adieu,” he said. He had got to the
door when Simon came beside him.
“An’ you would find her you seek,” he said, “seek her in death’s
chamber. She closes the eyes of the dead.”
“What mean you?” asked Peregrine. “You speak in parable.”
“No parable; in very truth. She has passed through this village
more than once.”
“You have seen her, and yet you term me mad,” cried Peregrine.
Simon laughed. “I have spoken,” he said, and turned within the
hovel.
 CHAPTER XVI

ILLUSION

T HE sun was not yet risen when Peregrine left the cottage. To the
west, behind the hills, the sky glowed faintly luminous. Around
him the valley lay yet in dusk, through which the trees and bushes
reared ghostly arms, white-shrouded, very spectre-like. The air was
alive with an intense purity, exceeding still, yet vital.
Away to the right, beyond the church, he saw a square building. A
cross crowning it at one end, he judged it the retreat of holy men or
women,—monks or nuns. Through the narrow slits of windows came
the gleam of pale candlelight, showing the occupants of the building
already astir, busy with Ave or Paternoster, possibly kneeling devout
at Mass. Even as he looked a bell rang out, its clear tone piercing the
silence. Habit caused him to bow his head. The action was
involuntary; he had done with such matters long since, or fancied to
have done with them. In either case it comes to the same for the
time being. We need not be nice as to the interpolation of a word.
Turning to the south he took the road towards the opening
between the hills. It lay, very smoothly white, between a snow-
shrouded wall on the one side, and a fence on the other. Now he
noticed a single line of footprints in the snow, small and clear,
passing on before him. His imagination fired on the instant, he
followed in their wake. They led him clean through the village to a
pine wood on its outskirts, beyond which lay the route between the
hills.
 The sun was up by the time he reached its edge, gilding the
western sky, flooding the earth with its beams. Following the
footsteps he entered the wood, found himself caught in its mystic
silence. Here was the brooding stillness, the peace of some vast
cathedral. Between the aisles of the pine trees the chequered light
straggled but a little way. This emphasized the solitude. The soul of
the place seemed withdrawn from sensible light and warmth into a
great silence.
Less conscious of the atmosphere around him than of the
footsteps he was following, Peregrine pursued his way. A very
certain hope beat in his heart. It was perchance less hope than
certainty. As he walked he looked not at the trees around him, but at
the footprints on the ground. The snow had fallen sparsely between
the pines, covering the path but thinly. In the footmarks he could
see the brown of the pine needles, and here and there a glint of
green moss. For the space of some half hour he walked; the wood
extended further than he had believed on entering it. On either hand
he saw the tracks of tiny feet, of birds, of mice, of rabbits. Down a
glen gleamed the berries of a rowan tree, scarlet against the
darkness of the pines. A few fallen berries below it shone blood-red
on the snow.
At length he gained the further outskirts of the wood, came into
full sunshine. Here was moorland stretching upward right and left to
the hills; before him it narrowed to the pass between them. Some
hundred yards or so ahead of him he saw a rude cottage, mud-
walled, thatched with rushes and bracken. It stood solitary in the
expanse of snow. The footprints led towards it. You may be very
sure that Peregrine followed the footprints.
Coming up to the cottage he peered through the small square
opening that served for window. Now verily his heart beat to
suffocation. This is what he saw.
The middle of the floor held a rough bier; a coarse linen sheet was
drawn over that which lay upon it. Two candles stood at the head,
their flame pale and insignificant in the sunshine which fell through
the window. He did not mark a woman sleeping at the far end of the
room, lying, most evidently exhausted, on a heap of moss and skins.
His eyes were all for a veiled figure kneeling by the bier. Flashing
through his mind came Simon’s words.
“Seek her in death’s chamber. She closes the eyes of the dead.”
You may well believe his heart cried, “At last!” The weary months
of his quest sank from him. He had found her. Past difficulties had
vanished; past fatigue was forgotten in present rest; past heart-
burning in present happiness. He dared not yet make his presence
known. It was enough that there she knelt, her head bowed towards
the bier. You see him humbled. He had doubted his dream at times.
It was now embodied before him. Here was enough to bow a man to
the earth, to abase his soul, the while joy raised it high. So for a
little space he stood entranced. Going at last to the door, he put his
hand upon the latch.
The sound of its raising roused the kneeling woman. She got to
her feet. A gentle-faced nun she stood there, looking at the man in
the doorway.
“Sir?” she said questioningly, her voice very low.
Peregrine was as one turned to stone. His heart was sick within
him.
“Sir,” she said again very gently, “what seek you? Here is death
present.”
Peregrine looked at her. A mad desire to laugh assailed him. Yet
courtesy was ever strong upon him.
“Madam, I crave your pardon,” he said hoarsely. “I—I have made
a mistake.” Blindly he turned from the door, stumbled out into the
snow.
 CHAPTER XVII

APHORISMS

F OR a time Peregrine was as one distraught. It may not be far

beside the mark to term him mad. He saw himself in the past
mocked by a woman; he saw himself now mocked by a man. In both
he saw vaguely the shadow of mockery by a Higher Power. Truly a
hard state. Yet strangely, for all that, he lost not hold on his quest.
Where heart’s desire had urged him in the past, fierce obstinacy now
spurred him forward. The face of the woman he sought was ever
before his mind. He believed her withheld and hidden from him by
conspiring Fate. This roused him to battle. He would move Earth and
Heaven and Hell to find her; die, if need be, in the attempt. This you
may guess he was very like to do. Already his wanderings had told
on him. It was now mid-winter, as we have seen, and that season is
not one for e’en the hardiest to be afoot at all times, dependent on
chance for shelter.
Of late he had aged considerably. This was not over strange, since
age comes not with the mere passing of Time, but with the pressure
of his finger in the passing. He had pressed hard on Peregrine. You
see him very different from the love-bathed youth, who had sat by
the sundial in the flower-scented garden; the joyous youth, who had
wandered the fields with Pippo; the wounded youth, who had lain in
the wood, his cheek pressed to Mother Earth; the egoist, who had
held his Council of Arts in Castle Syrtes; who, dauntless, had fought
his way through the forest. He was a man soul-sick, weary,
desperate, pursuer of a forlorn hope, so men would term it.
 Here it was that a certain duplex side of his character showed
itself. One part of his nature would have ranged itself on the side of
men, would have stood with them for the madness of his quest, its
mere foolishness rather. This part of his nature he strangled very
fiercely. Pride had a hand in the strangling. He would make his quest
true, prove himself no fool. He saw himself in a sense creator of
what he sought. He himself, by virtue of his belief in the woman,
would materialize her, if she existed but in realms of fancy. Thus, I
say, he would prove himself no fool. This was veritable madness. Yet
I have told you Peregrine was for the moment not fully sane.
Leaving the cottage of illusion,—this is what he termed it to
himself, and very bitterly,—he had made for the south, to the pass
between the hills. Descending for a time, the path had at length led
upwards between more pine woods, like to that he had lately
traversed. Misery and the whiteness of the snow combined to daze
him. He walked like a man in a trance. Subconsciously his mind
worked, came to the state I have shown you. In this mood he
formed certain aphorisms, some possibly already known by him;
some new, created from old material.
“Cogito, ergo sum,—I think, therefore I exist,” being the first of
them it led easily to his second.
“Thought is a creative power. Think deeply, and you will create
greatly.” Ergo, by dwelling with every particle of his mind on the
thought of the woman he sought, he would create her.
“Hope is a collective force. Terror and doubt disperse what you
have thereby acquired.” Ergo, hope was the thought by which he
would collect material for his creation. To allow terror or doubt to
work alongside would be to undertake one of the seven labours of
Hercules.
“Desire, being also thought and thereby creative, brings its own
attainment.” Ergo, he desired the woman he sought and would attain
to her. This was as certain as that a wheat seed can bring forth
nought but wheat. It became, to his mind, a law of Nature. You see
each of his aphorisms harping to the same end. Doubtless there
were plenty more of them. Those I have given you will suffice.
Coming near the summit of the hill he made out a wayside cross,
backgrounded by the pines. It stood weather-beaten and solitary.
Here and there the stone was hidden by yellow fungus and grey
lichen. Below it knelt a figure. For a breathing space Peregrine felt
his heart bound. The next instant he had himself and his heart well
under control. No second time would he give way to mere fancy.
Here he was very wise. Coming further he saw a little peasant girl,
ragged and ill clad. At the foot of the cross she had laid a bunch of
holly. She turned on his approach, looking at him with wide childish
eyes.
“I give you good-day, sir,” she said shyly, as he paused a moment.
“Good-day,” responded Peregrine, though in no mood to term it
truly good.
“I—I have laid the holly there,” she said, as seeing him still stop
she sought for conversation.
“A pretty thought,” said Peregrine indulgently. It was no more in
his nature to snub a child than to strike an animal.
“I often bring flowers,” pursued the little maid. “First there are
daffodils and primroses to bring. They are very fresh and sweet.
Later come bluebells and herb Robert. They are not so pleasant-
scented. Next come roses and honeysuckle. They are the most
fragrant of all. In the autumn there are always leaves, which are as
pretty as flowers, when they are red and gold. Now there is holly.”
“That is pretty too,” said Peregrine.
“Yes,” replied the child. “But it is sad. It is very thorny, and the
berries are red like blood. When I see it I think of the crown of
thorns, and Christ’s death.”
“A sorrowful fancy,” said Peregrine, and somewhat uneasily.
 “’Tis not a fancy,” averred the child, discriminating nicely. “’Tis a
thought. Fancies may not be over good.”
“Truly,” smiled Peregrine, finding amusement despite himself at
the earnest tone of the small discriminator. “What manner of fancies,
may I ask?”
Gravely she surveyed him. There was no mockery in his smile. An’
there had been she would have held her peace. Instead she
cogitated, seeking to make her meaning clear.
“I know,” she said wisely after a moment, “that there are evil
spirits in the world. They roam abroad, especially in darkness. I used
to fancy we were all safer from their power from Christmas till
Ascension Day. I fancied Christ truly on the earth during that time.
After Ascension Day He seemed further away, and sometimes I was
frighted. I told this to Father Bernard. He said that it was merely
fancy. He said Our Lord was ever present now upon the earth in the
Blessed Sacrament, in greater glory now than when He lived on
earth before. I have forgotten what more he said; but I am no
longer frighted when Ascension Day is past. You see, what I held
before was fancy, and—and—I cannot tell you rightly, but Father
Bernard would show you that fancies are not the same as thoughts.”
“Humph!” said Peregrine, having no mind to test the perspicacity
of Father Bernard or any other priest on the matter. He hitched his
cloak closer around him, ready to start again on his way. The
movement disclosed his tabor hanging by a frayed ribbon from his
neck. The child saw it; curiosity was quick astir.
“What is that?” she demanded, finger pointing.
“My tabor,” returned Peregrine.
“Tabor?” she queried. The word as well as the instrument was
unknown to her. “What is a tabor?”
“A musical instrument,” said Peregrine, smiling at the little
ignoramus.
 “Music!” Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed. “Ah, play it!” This
was on a note of deep entreaty.
Peregrine shrugged his shoulders. Here was an interlude in his
former mood of blackness. It was not wholly distasteful. You have
seen that he favoured children. He found quaintness in this one.
“What shall I play for you?” he demanded, unslinging the
instrument.
“Play while I sing,” she said firmly. “That will sound well.”
Peregrine chuckled. “Truly that depends on the singing,” quoth he.
“On, then, with the song.”
Birdlike her voice rose in the pure air. Peregrine catching the
melody came in with the tabor. Here is what she sang.
 Of one that is so fair and bright
Velut maris stella,
Brighter than the day is light,
Parens et puella:
I cry to thee, thou see to me,
Lady, pray thy Son for me,
Tam pia,
That I may come to thee
Maria.

All this world was forlorn

Eva peccatrice,
Till our Lord was here born
De te genetrice.
With ave it went away
Darkling night, and comes the day
Salutis;
The well springeth out of thee,
Virtutis.

Lady, flower of each thing,

Rosa sine spina,
Thou bear’st Jesus, Heaven’s King,
Gratia divina:
Of all thou bear’st the prize,
Lady, queen of paradise
Electa:
Maid mild, Mother es
Effecta.

“There,” she cried triumphant, as she ended, most innocently

pleased with the performance, “I said it would sound well.”
“Liquid silver notes from a throat of gold,” said Peregrine, verily
astonished. “An’ I had not other matters on hand, you and I might
well roam the world together, and men would truly hearken to us, or
they are greater dullards than even I judge them.”
She looked at him with longing eyes. His words held open a vista
of bliss before her. But she shook her head sadly.
“It cannot be. I have work to do,” she said sorrowful.
 “For that matter so indeed have I,” quoth Peregrine. “What
manner of work is thine?”
“I mind my father’s goats,” she responded. “What work is yours?”
“I seek some one,” said Peregrine grimly.
“Some one you have lost?”
“Some one I have never found,” was the answer.
“Oh,” responded the child perplexed. Then shyly, “I must be about
my work. I thank you, sir. God speed you with your seeking.” Waiting
for no response she nodded to him, turned off into the pinewood.
Peregrine went slowly on his way.
The interlude had come happily. There is a healthful sanity in a
child’s company, even if it endure but a brief space. Peregrine felt his
mind somewhat cleansed of the murkiness which had enshrouded it.
He began to picture the woman he sought as present with him. This
eased his mind for a while, even though it tantalized. It lifted him to
a more exalted mood. He identified her with the Spirit of Life around
him, saw her passing over the snow swift-footed, fancied her coming
from among the pines towards him, heard her voice in the light
breeze which stirred them. He held her thus in his thought
throughout the day. He saw her image in the glowing sunset, fancied
the purpling light across the hills the spreading of her veil. So far so
good. With the night, fatigue descended on him. There comes a
point in this state when fancy cannot readily be embraced, nor even
held though formerly present. Reality is required upon which to rest
the mind. This Peregrine had not. Fancy slipping from him left him
desolate. He was also very hungry. Fate had thrown no dwelling in
his path whereat he could beg bread. Therefore he had not broken
his fast since early morning. The needs of nature joining with
desolation of mind to bear him down, he found himself heavily
weighted.
Darkness lay around him. The sky, which at close of sunset had
clouded, brought very meagre light to guide him. Only the faint
glimmer of the white road before him gave him his route. He
stumbled on, sinking at times knee deep in the snow, where it lay
drifted beneath the wall.
The wind began to rise, and with it feathery flakes came silent and
insidious. They touched his cheek like soft cold kisses. You would
never have dreamed danger in their tenderness. They came faster,
thicker. The wind swirled them in a dancing maze. A few steps
further, and a blizzard was upon him. The wind rushing from the
north smote him that he could barely stand. The snow leaped and
flashed around him, blinding, suffocating. He staggered on doggedly.
“An’ I stop now I never find her.” That was his thought, barely
articulate even to his own mind.
In his stress forgotten habit came to him. A prayer rose to his lips.
He put it swift aside. Long ago he had prayed, believed in prayer, in
God, in a woman he had created,—a woman who had prayed. She
had mocked at him; cast him from her. Therefore he had put her and
her beliefs from him, and with them his own, being like to hers. In
this you see sheer stupidity, and rightly. The Creator is not
responsible for hypocrisy in His creatures. That is where the Devil
comes in with his handling of matters. This Peregrine had not seen
formerly, nor was like to do so now, blinded and stupefied as he was
by his conflict with the snow.
Putting prayer aside, then, he trusted to his own efforts. It is
certain that he lacked not courage of a kind. His arm up shielding his
face, he struggled on. His breath came in sobbing gasps. A dark
mass looming before him brought him to a halt. From out the mass
gleamed a faint light piercing the snow-driven atmosphere. He took
a step towards it, and sank in a drift to his thigh. For a moment he
struggled, but to sink the deeper. Well-nigh spent, drowsiness was
falling on him. It seemed that further effort availed him nought. As
well rest now as not; rest and sleep.
In the blinding snow around him he thought he saw a woman
standing. She came nearer, bending to him. Now indeed he cried,
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