Page 291 sur 483

stars and clouds and winds, ye are all about to mock me; if ye

really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become as

nought; but if not, depart, depart, and leave me in darkness."

These were wild and miserable thoughts, but I cannot describe to

you how the eternal twinkling of the stars weighed upon me and

how I listened to every blast of wind as if it were a dull ugly

siroc on its way to consume me.