. .
whilst we still have life!"
The rain began to fall. Thick, close darkness covered the
figures that lay scattered over the ground, half drunk, half
asleep. The light in the windows of the dosshouse flickered,
paled, and suddenly disappeared. Probably the wind blew it out
or else the oil was exhausted. The drops of rain sounded
strangely on the iron roof of the dosshouse. Above the mountain
where the town lay the ringing of bells was heard, rung by the
watchers in the churches. The brazen sound coming from the
belfry rang out into the dark and died away, and before its last
indistinct note was drowned another stroke was heard and the
monotonous silence was again broken by the melancholy clang of
bells.
* * * * *
The next morning Tyapa was the first to wake up. Lying on his
back he looked up into the sky. Only in such a position did his
deformed neck permit him to see the clouds above his head.
This morning the sky was of a uniform grey. Up there hung the
damp, cold mist of dawn, almost extinguishing the sun, hiding the
unknown vastness behind and pouring despondency over the earth.
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