I could feel the pressure and the scrape of the canvas on my head, and
legs and arms.... The litter went along jostling me.... I could see
everything, clearly ... the flickering of the torches there, and the
gleaming of the candles at the points of the three crossed lances....
Total darkness outside!... Not a ray of light coming through the grated
window. Not one last trace of twilight on the mountain trail....
The canvas tightened, and closed my eyes. There on the heath a shroud
of canvas! There in my room a shroud of slumber! Sleep! Another
death!...