The man's lips moved, his teeth
gleamed, his round eyes rolled, the paper rustled, and the lamp shone
from the ceiling round which large, black, fierce-looking flies
revolved. In Semenoff's brain something seemed to flame upwards,
illuminating all that surrounded him. He was suddenly conscious that
all was now of no account to him, and that all the work and business in
the world could not add one single hour to his life; but that he must
die. Once more he sank down into the waves of black mist; again the
silent conflict began between two terrible and secret forces, the one
convulsively striving to destroy the other.
The second time that Semenoff regained consciousness was when he heard
weeping and chanting. This seemed to him utterly unnecessary, having no
sort of relation to all that was going on within him. For a moment,
however, it lighted up the flame in his brain, and Semenoff clearly
perceived the mock-mournful face of a man who was absolutely
uninteresting to him. That was the last sign of life. What followed was
for those living wholly beyond the pale of their thought or
comprehension.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154