Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - VI. Hell
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
Below is the raw OCR text
from the above scanned image.
Do you see an error? Proofread the page now!
Här nedan syns maskintolkade texten från faksimilbilden ovan.
Ser du något fel? Korrekturläs sidan nu!
This page has been proofread at least once.
(diff)
(history)
Denna sida har korrekturlästs minst en gång.
(skillnad)
(historik)
intensify my mental torture, they turn round on
their chairs, and point with their fingers in the
direction of my room. About ten o’clock I
extinguish my lamp, and go to sleep quietly,
resigned as a dying man.
I wake up. A clock strikes two; a door is
fastened, and—I am out of bed, as though
someone had applied an air-pump to my heart and
drawn me out so. At the same time an electric
stream strikes my neck, and presses me to the
ground. I rise again, seize my clothes and rush,
my heart beating violently, into the garden.
When I have dressed myself, my first clear
thought is to go to the police and have the house
searched. But the front door is shut, and so is
the porter’s box. I grope my way on, open a
door on the right, and step into the kitchen, in
which a lamp is burning. I upset it, and stand
in pitch darkness.
Fear restores me to my senses, and I return to
my room with the thought: “If I make a mistake,
I am lost.” I drag a chair out into the garden,
and, sitting under the starry sky, I reflect
on what is happening. Am I ill? Impossible:
for until I disclosed my incognito, I was quite
well. Is it an attack? Yes, because I saw the
preparations for it going on. For the rest, I
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
