When I was alone, free from the visions and scenes to which I devoted
my life, all kinds of worries assailed me--worry about my position,
which I was risking, worry about the steps I ought to be taking and yet
was not taking, worry over myself that I was so intent upon casting off
all my obligations and postponing them, and repudiating my wage-earning
lot, by which I was destined to be held fast in the slow wheelwork of
office routine.

I was also worried by all kinds of minutiae, annoying because they kept
cropping up every minute--not make any noise, not light a light when the
Room was dark, hide myself, and hide myself all the time. One evening
I got a fit of coughing while listening at the hole. I snatched up my
pillow and buried my head in it to keep the sound from coming out of my
mouth.

Everything seemed to be in a league to avenge itself upon me for I did
not know what. I felt as though I should not be able to hold out much
longer. Nevertheless, I made up my mind to keep on looking as long as
my health and my courage lasted. It might be bad for me, but it was my
duty.

. . . . .

The man was sinking. Death was evidently in the house.

It was quite late in the evening. They were sitting at the table
opposite each other.

I knew their marriage had taken place that afternoon, and that its
purpose had been only to solemnise their approaching farewell. Some
white blossoms, lilies and azaleas, were strewn on the table, the
mantelpiece, and one armchair. He was fading away like those cut
flowers.

"We are married," he said. "You are my wife. You are my wife, Anna!"

It was for the sweetness of saying, "You are my wife," that he had so
longed. Nothing more. But he felt so poor, with his few days of life,
that it was complete happiness to him.

He looked at her, and she lifted her eyes to him--to him who adored her
sisterly tenderness--she who had become devoted to his adoration. What
infinite emotion lay hidden in these two silences, which faced each
other in a kind of embrace; in the double silence of these two human
beings, who, I had observed, never touched each other, not even with
the tips of their fingers.

The girl lifted her head, and said, in an unsteady voice:

"It is late. I am going to sleep."

She got up. The lamp, which she set on the mantelpiece, lit up the
room.

She trembled. She seemed to be in a dream and not to know how to yield
to the dream. Then she raised her a