He had risen, and was praying with all the might of his soul, his face and hands thrown up, and the tones of terrible beseeching in his voice.
Suddenly he sank to his knees and drew his arms swiftly and strongly across his eyes; swaying his body to and fro, he moaned out in piteous entreaty:
"Oh, God of mercy, show mercy to me, and turn away from me my mother's eyes!"
There was a knock at the door.
He staggered feebly to his feet, and took a few hasty inspirations before asking:
"Who's there?"
"I, sir."
"What do you want?"
"The mail is going out, sir."
"Well?"