into the face of the
man whose words, not careless like mine, had brought it upon us. Our eyes
met, and his were surrounded by curves and lines of anguish which were
terrible to see.

'Well,' he said with a short laugh, which was forced and harsh, 'how do
you like it? that is what happens when--If it came often, who could
endure it?' He was not like the rest. There was no sneer upon his face,
no gibe at my simplicity. Even now, when all had recovered, he was still
quivering with something that looked like a nobler pain. His face was
very grave, the lines deeply drawn in it; and he seemed to be seeking no
amusement or distraction, nor to take any part in the noise and tumult
which was going on around.

'Do you know what that cry meant?' he said. 'Did you hear that cry? It
was some one who saw--even here once in a long time, they say, it can
be seen--'

'What can be seen?'

He shook his head, looking at me with a meaning which I could not
interpret. It was beyond the range of my thoughts. I came to know after,
or I never could have made this record. But on that subject he said no
more. He turned the way I was going, though it mattered nothing what way
I went, for all were the same to me. 'You are one of the new-comers?' he
said; 'you have not been long here--'

'Tell me,' I cried, 'what you mean by _here_. Where are we? How can one
tell who has fallen--he knows not whence or where? What is this place? I
have never seen anything like it. It seems to me that I hate it already,
though I know not what it is.'

He shook his head once more. 'You will hate it more and more,' he said;
'but of these dreadful streets you will never be free, unless--' And here
he stopped again.

'Unless--what? If it is possible, I will be free of them, and that
before long.'

He smiled at me faintly, as we smile at children, but not with derision.

'How shall you do that? Between this miserable world and all others,
there is a great gulf fixed. It is full of all the bitterness and tears
that come from all the universe. These drop from them, but stagnate here.
We, you perceive, have no tears, not even at moments--' Then, 'You will
soon be accustomed to all this,' he said. 'You will fall into the way.
Perhaps you will be able to amuse yourself to make it passable. Many do.
There are a number of fine things to be seen here. If you are curious,
come with me and I will show you. Or work,--there is even work. There is
only one thing that is i