" Stopping then, to look down at
the mattress, he turned from it with a sick feeling, and thought,
"And here in these crawling creatures is the first condition of the
body after death."
"Five paces by four and a half, five paces by four and a half, five
paces by four and a half." The prisoner walked to and fro in his
cell, counting its measurement, and the roar of the city arose like
muffled drums with a wild swell of voices added to them. "He made
shoes, he made shoes, he made shoes." The prisoner counted the
measurement again, and paced faster, to draw his mind with him from
that latter repetition. "The ghosts that vanished when the wicket
closed. There was one among them, the appearance of a lady dressed
in black, who was leaning in the embrasure of a window, and she had a
light shining upon her golden hair, and she looked like * * * * Let
us ride on again, for God's sake, through the illuminated villages
with the people all awake! * * * * He made shoes, he made shoes,
he made shoes. * * * * Five paces by four and a half." With such scraps
tossing and rolling upward from the depths of his mind, the prisoner
walked faster and faster, obstinately counting and counting; and the
roar of the city changed to this extent--that it still rolled in like
muffled drums, but with the wail of voices that he knew, in the swell
that rose above them.
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