Sanine

On the adjoining bed a man with a quaint, clean-shaven face was reading

aloud, but why he read, or to whom he read, Semenoff never troubled to

think. He distinctly heard that the parliamentary elections had been

postponed, and that an attempt had been made to assassinate a Grand

Duke, but the words were empty and meaningless; like bubbles, they

burst and vanished, leaving no trace. 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.