"A time will come when nobody will be able to go away from here. Yes,
neither I nor anybody," and in his old eyes, so close to me, I saw
the same fixed, dull, stricken expression. And something terrible,
unbearable, resembling the fall of thousands of buildings, darted
through my head, and growing cold from terror, I whispered,--
"The red laugh."
And he was the first to understand me. He hastily nodded his head and
repeated,--
"Yes. The red laugh."
He sat down quite close to me and looking round began whispering
rapidly, in a senile way, wagging his sharp, grey little beard.
"You are leaving soon, and I will tell you. Did you ever see a fight
in an asylum? No? Well, I saw one. And they fought like sane people.
You understand--like sane people." He significantly repeated the last
phrase several times.
"Well, and what of that?" asked I, also in a whisper, full of terror.
"Nothing. Like sane people."
"The red laugh," said I.
"They were separated by water being poured over them."