an end to this! I found a splinter to chew, and set
myself resolutely to again.

A couple of short sentences formed themselves with much trouble, a
score of poor words which I tortured forth with might and main to try
and advance a little. Then I stopped, my head was barren; I was
incapable of more. And, as I could positively not go on, I set myself
to gaze with wide open eyes at these last words, this unfinished sheet
of paper; I stared at these strange, shaky letters that bristled up
from the paper like small hairy creeping things, till at last I could
neither make head nor tail of any of it. I thought on nothing.

Time went; I heard the traffic in the street, the rattle of cars and
tramp of hoofs. Jens Olaj's voice ascended towards me from the stables
as he chid the horses. I was perfectly stunned. I sat and moistened my
lips a little, but otherwise made no effort to do anything; my chest
was in a pitiful state. The dusk closed in; I sank more and more
together, grew weary, and lay down on the bed again. In order to warm
my fingers a little I stroked them through my hair backwards and
forwards and crosswise. Small loose tufts came away, flakes that got
between my fingers, and scattered over the pillow. I did not think
anything about it just then; it was as if it did not concern me. I had
hair enough left, anyway. I tried afresh to shake myself out of this
strange daze that enveloped my whole being like a mist. I sat up,
struck my knees with my flat hands, laughed as hard as my sore chest
permitted me--only to collapse again. Naught availed; I was dying
helplessly, with my eyes wide open--staring straight up at the roof. At
length I stuck my forefinger in my mouth, and took to sucking it.
Something stirred in my brain, a thought that bored its way in there--a
stark-mad notion.

Supposing I were to take a bite? And without a moment's reflection, I
shut my eyes, and clenched my teeth on it.

I sprang up. At last I was thoroughly awake. A little blood trickled
from it, and I licked it as it came. It didn't hurt very much, neither
was the wound large, but I was brought at one bound to my senses. I
shook my head, went to the window, where I found a rag, and wound it
round the sore place. As I stood and busied myself with this, my eyes
filled with tears; I cried softly to myself. This poor thin finger
looked so utterly pitiable. God in Heaven! what a pass it had come to
now with me! The gloom grew closer. It was, maybe,