He stopped. You felt his will-power making his face calm, his soul compelling him to silence, but his eyes seemed to mourn.
He repeated in a lower voice, as if to himself, "You! You!"
He fell asleep with "You" on his lips.
. . . . .
He died that night. I saw him die. By a strange chance he was alone at the last moment.
There was no death rattle, no death agony, properly speaking. He did not claw the bedclothes with his fingers, nor speak, nor cry. No last sigh, no last flash.
He had asked Anna for a drink. As there was no more water in the room and the nurse happened to be away at that moment, she had gone out to get some quickly. She did not even shut the door.
The lamplight filled the room. I watched the man's face and felt, by some sign, that the great silence at that moment was drowning him.
Then instinctively I cried out to him. I could not help crying out so that he should not be alone.
"I see you!"