Suddenly my strength failed me. The room seemed to be paved with water;
the floor yielded and undulated under my feet; the motor-cycle pulsing
in my breast stopped dead. Then I felt Bozevsky's arm sustain me as I
fell forward on his breast. Everything whirled, darkened--vanished.
When I opened my eyes I was seated near the window; the dancers crowded
round me. Stahl was bending over me with a small shining instrument in
his hand. It was a hypodermic syringe.