He was conscious
of an increase of pain, which had seemed impossible. It shot through and
through his whole body; and he saw flames. There was only one way to do
it, he must get down upon his hands and his left knee and drag himself
to the furnace in that way. It was a thing of infinite difficulty and
suffering, but he did it. Inch by inch, he got nearer.
As his right hand grasped a billet of wood from the little pile,
something seemed to break in his head. His strength collapsed, he fell
forward from his knee to his full length in the ashes and dust, and he
felt nothing more.
CHAPTER X
The porter unbarred the door and looked out. It was nearly noon and the
southerly breeze was blowing. The footway was almost deserted. On the
other side of the canal, in the shadow of the Beroviero house, an old
man who sold melons in slices had gone to sleep under a bit of ragged
awning, and the flies had their will of him and his wares. A small boy
simply dressed in a shirt, and nothing else, stood at a little distance,
looking at the fruit and listening attentively to the voice of the
tempter that bade him help himself.
Pasquale looked at the house opposite. Everything was quiet, and the
shutters were drawn together, but not quite closed.
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