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The study was slowly lit up as the candle was brought in. The

familiar details came out: the stag's horns, the bookshelves, the

looking-glass, the stove with its ventilator, which had long

wanted mending, his father's sofa, a large table, on the table an

open book, a broken ashtray, a manuscript book with his

handwriting. As he saw all this, there came over him for an

instant a doubt of the possibility of arranging the new life, of

which he had been dreaming on the road. All these traces of his

life seemed to clutch him, and to say to him: "No, you're not

going to get away from us, and you're not going to be different,

but you're going to be the same as you've always been; with

doubts, everlasting dissatisfaction with yourself, vain efforts

to amend, and falls, and everlasting expectation, of a happiness

which you won't get, and which isn't possible for you."