Chapter V.
And ever swifter grows the beat of time's wing. My breath can no longer keep the same pace.
Thoughtless enjoyment of life has long yielded to a life and death struggle.
And I am conquered.
Wretchedness and want have robbed me of my grasping courage and of my laughing defiance. The body is sick and the soul droops its wings.
* * * * *
Midnight approaches. The smoky lamp burns more dimly and outside on the streets life begins to die out. Only from time to time the snow crunches and groans under the hurrying foot of some belated and freezing passer-by. The reflection of the gas lamps rests upon the frozen windows as though a yellow veil had been drawn before them.
In the room hovers a dull heat which weighs upon my brain and even amid shivering wrings the sweat from my pores.
I had the fire started again toward night for I was cold. Now I am no longer cold.
"Take care of yourself," my friend the doctor said to me, "you have worked yourself to pieces and must rest."