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Chapter 9

NOW--soft awhile--have I arrived so near the end? Yes! it is all over
now--a step or two over those new made graves, and the wearisome way is
done. Can I accomplish my task? Can I streak my paper with words capacious
of the grand conclusion? Arise, black Melancholy! quit thy Cimmerian
solitude! Bring with thee murky fogs from hell, which may drink up the day;
bring blight and pestiferous exhalations, which, entering the hollow
caverns and breathing places of earth, may fill her stony veins with
corruption, so that not only herbage may no longer flourish, the trees may
rot, and the rivers run with gall--but the everlasting mountains be
decomposed, and the mighty deep putrify, and the genial atmosphere which
clips the globe, lose all powers of generation and sustenance. Do this, sad
visaged power, while I write, while eyes read these pages.

And who will read them? Beware, tender offspring of the re-born world--
beware, fair being, with human heart, yet untamed by care, and human brow,
yet unploughed by time--beware, lest the cheerful current of thy blood be
checked, thy golden locks turn grey, thy sweet dimpling smiles be changed
to fixed, harsh wrinkles! Let not day look on these lines, lest garish day
waste, turn pale, and die. Seek a cypress grove, whose moaning boughs will
be harmony befitting; seek some cave, deep embowered in earth's dark
entrails, where no light will penetrate, save that which struggles, red and
flickering, through a single fissure, staining thy page with grimmest
livery of death.

There is a painful confusion in my brain, which refuses to delineate
distinctly succeeding events. Sometimes the irradiation of my friend's
gentle smile comes before me; and methinks its light spans and fills
eternity--then, again, I feel the gasping throes--

We quitted Como, and in compliance with Adrian's earnest desire, we took
Venice in our way to Rome. There was something to the English peculiarly
attractive in the idea of this wave-encircled, island-enthroned city.
Adrian had never seen it. We went down the Po and the Brenta in a boat;
and, the days proving intolerably hot, we rested in the bordering palaces
during the day, travelling through the night, when darkness made the
bordering banks indistinct, and our solitude less remarkable; when the
wandering moon lit the waves that divided before our prow, and the
night-wind filled our sails, and the murmuring stream, waving trees, and
swelling canvass, accorded in harmonious strain. Clara, long overcome by
excessive grief, had to a great degree cast aside her timid, cold reserve,
and received our attentions with grateful tenderness. While Adrian with
poetic fervour discoursed of the glorious nations of the dead, of the
beauteous earth and the fate of man, she crept near him, drinking in his
speech with silent pleasure. We banished from our talk, and as much as
possible from our thoughts, the knowledge of our desolation. And it would
be incredible to an inhabitant of cities, to one among a busy throng, to
what extent we succeeded. It was as a man confined in a dungeon, whose
small and grated rift at first renders the doubtful light more sensibly
obscure, till, the visual orb having drunk in the beam, and adapted itself
to its scantiness, he finds that clear noon inhabits his cell. So we, a
simple triad on empty earth, were multiplied to each other, till we became
all in all. We stood like trees, whose roots are loosened by the wind,
which support one another, leaning and clinging with encreased fervour
while the wintry storms howl. Thus we floated down the widening stream of
the Po, sleeping when the cicale sang, awake with the stars. We entered the
narrower banks of the Brenta, and arrived at the shore of the Laguna at
sunrise on the sixth of September. The bright orb slowly rose from behind
its cupolas and towers, and shed its penetrating light upon the glassy
waters. Wrecks of gondolas, and some few uninjured ones, were strewed on
the beach at Fusina. We embarked in one of these for the widowed daughter
of ocean, who, abandoned and fallen, sat forlorn on her propping isles,
looking towards the far mountains of Greece. We rowed lightly over the
Laguna, and entered Canale Grande. The tide ebbed sullenly from out the
broken portals and violated halls of Venice: sea weed and sea monsters were
left on the blackened marble, while the salt ooze defaced the matchless
works of art that adorned their walls, and the sea gull flew out from the
shattered window. In the midst of this appalling ruin of the monuments of
man's power, nature asserted her ascendancy, and shone more beauteous from
the contrast. The radiant waters hardly trembled, while the rippling waves
made many sided mirrors to the sun; the blue immensity, seen beyond Lido,
stretched far, unspecked by boat, so tranquil, so lovely, that it seemed to
invite us to quit the land strewn with ruins, and to seek refuge from
sorrow and fear on its placid extent.

We saw the ruins of this hapless city from the height of the tower of San
Marco, immediately under us, and turned with sickening hearts to the sea,
which, though it be a grave, rears no monument, discloses no ruin. Evening
had come apace. The sun set in calm majesty behind the misty summits of the
Apennines, and its golden and roseate hues painted the mountains of the
opposite shore. "That land," said Adrian, "tinged with the last glories of
the day, is Greece." Greece! The sound had a responsive chord in the bosom
of Clara. She vehemently reminded us that we had promised to take her once
again to Greece, to the tomb of her parents. Why go to Rome? what should we
do at Rome? We might take one of the many vessels to be found here, embark
in it, and steer right for Albania.

I objected the dangers of ocean, and the distance of the mountains we saw,
from Athens; a distance which, from the savage uncultivation of the
country, was almost impassable. Adrian, who was delighted with Clara's
proposal, obviated these objections. The season was favourable; the
north-west that blew would take us transversely across the gulph; and then
we might find, in some abandoned port, a light Greek caique, adapted for
such navigation, and run down the coast of the Morea, and, passing over the
Isthmus of Corinth, without much land-travelling or fatigue, find ourselves
at Athens. This appeared to me wild talk; but the sea, glowing with a
thousand purple hues, looked so brilliant and safe; my beloved companions
were so earnest, so determined, that, when Adrian said, "Well, though it is
not exactly what you wish, yet consent, to please me"--I could no longer
refuse. That evening we selected a vessel, whose size just seemed fitted
for our enterprize; we bent the sails and put the rigging in order, and
reposing that night in one of the city's thousand palaces, agreed to embark
at sunrise the following morning.

When winds that move not its calm surface, sweep
The azure sea, I love the land no more;
The smiles of the serene and tranquil deep
Tempt my unquiet mind--

Thus said Adrian, quoting a translation of Moschus's poem, as in the clear
morning light, we rowed over the Laguna, past Lido, into the open sea--I
would have added in continuation,

But when the roar
Of ocean's gray abyss resounds, and foam
Gathers upon the sea, and vast waves burst--

But my friends declared that such verses were evil augury;
so in cheerful mood we left the shallow waters, and, when
out at sea, unfurled our sails to catch the favourable breeze.
The laughing morning air filled them, while sun-light bathed earth, sky and
ocean--the placid waves divided to receive our keel, and playfully kissed
the dark sides of our little skiff, murmuring a welcome; as land receded,
still the blue expanse, most waveless, twin sister to the azure empyrean,
afforded smooth conduct to our bark. As the air and waters were tranquil
and balmy, so were our minds steeped in quiet. In comparison with the
unstained deep, funereal earth appeared a grave, its high rocks and stately
mountains were but monuments, its trees the plumes of a herse, the brooks
and rivers brackish with tears for departed man. Farewell to desolate towns
--to fields with their savage intermixture of corn and weeds--to ever
multiplying relics of our lost species. Ocean, we commit ourselves to thee
--even as the patriarch of old floated above the drowned world, let us be
saved, as thus we betake ourselves to thy perennial flood.

Adrian sat at the helm; I attended to the rigging, the breeze right aft
filled our swelling canvas, and we ran before it over the untroubled deep.
The wind died away at noon; its idle breath just permitted us to hold our
course. As lazy, fair-weather sailors, careless of the coming hour, we
talked gaily of our coasting voyage, of our arrival at Athens. We would
make our home of one of the Cyclades, and there in myrtle-groves, amidst
perpetual spring, fanned by the wholesome sea-breezes--we would live long
years in beatific union--Was there such a thing as death in the world?--


The sun passed its zenith, and lingered down the stainless floor of heaven.
Lying in the boat, my face turned up to the sky, I thought I saw on its
blue white, marbled streaks, so slight, so immaterial, that now I said--
They are there--and now, It is a mere imagination. A sudden fear stung me
while I gazed; and, starting up, and running to the prow,--as I stood, my
hair was gently lifted on my brow--a dark line of ripples appeared to the
east, gaining rapidly on us--my breathless remark to Adrian, was followed
by the flapping of the canvas, as the adverse wind struck it, and our boat
lurched--swift as speech, the web of the storm thickened over head, the
sun went down red, the dark sea was strewed with foam, and our skiff rose
and fell in its encreasing furrows.

Behold us now in our frail tenement, hemmed in by hungry, roaring waves,
buffeted by winds. In the inky east two vast clouds, sailing contrary ways,
met; the lightning leapt forth, and the hoarse thunder muttered. Again in
the south, the clouds replied, and the forked stream of fire running along
the black sky, shewed us the appalling piles of clouds, now met and
obliterated by the heaving waves. Great God! And we alone--we three--
alone--alone--sole dwellers on the sea and on the earth, we three must
perish! The vast universe, its myriad worlds, and the plains of boundless
earth which we had left--the extent of shoreless sea around--contracted
to my view--they and all that they contained, shrunk up to one point,
even to our tossing bark, freighted with glorious humanity.

A convulsion of despair crossed the love-beaming face of Adrian, while with
set teeth he murmured, "Yet they shall be saved!" Clara, visited by an
human pang, pale and trembling, crept near him--he looked on her with an
encouraging smile--"Do you fear, sweet girl? O, do not fear, we shall
soon be on shore!"

The darkness prevented me from seeing the changes of her countenance; but
her voice was clear and sweet, as she replied, "Why should I fear? neither
sea nor storm can harm us, if mighty destiny or the ruler of destiny does
not permit. And then the stinging fear of surviving either of you, is not
here--one death will clasp us undivided."

Meanwhile we took in all our sails, save a gib; and, as soon as we might
without danger, changed our course, running with the wind for the Italian
shore. Dark night mixed everything; we hardly discerned the white crests of
the murderous surges, except when lightning made brief noon, and drank the
darkness, shewing us our danger, and restoring us to double night. We were
all silent, except when Adrian, as steersman, made an encouraging
observation. Our little shell obeyed the rudder miraculously well, and ran
along on the top of the waves, as if she had been an offspring of the sea,
and the angry mother sheltered her endangered child.

I sat at the prow, watching our course; when suddenly I heard the waters
break with redoubled fury. We were certainly near the shore--at the same
time I cried, "About there!" and a broad lightning filling the concave,
shewed us for one moment the level beach a-head, disclosing even the sands,
and stunted, ooze-sprinkled beds of reeds, that grew at high water mark.
Again it was dark, and we drew in our breath with such content as one may,
who, while fragments of volcano-hurled rock darken the air, sees a vast
mass ploughing the ground immediately at his feet. What to do we knew not
--the breakers here, there, everywhere, encompassed us--they roared, and
dashed, and flung their hated spray in our faces. With considerable
difficulty and danger we succeeded at length in altering our course, and
stretched out from shore. I urged my companions to prepare for the wreck of
our little skiff, and to bind themselves to some oar or spar which might
suffice to float them. I was myself an excellent swimmer--the very sight
of the sea was wont to raise in me such sensations, as a huntsman
experiences, when he hears a pack of hounds in full cry; I loved to feel
the waves wrap me and strive to overpower me; while I, lord of myself,
moved this way or that, in spite of their angry buffetings. Adrian also
could swim--but the weakness of his frame prevented him from feeling
pleasure in the exercise, or acquiring any great expertness. But what power
could the strongest swimmer oppose to the overpowering violence of ocean in
its fury? My efforts to prepare my companions were rendered nearly futile
--for the roaring breakers prevented our hearing one another speak, and
the waves, that broke continually over our boat, obliged me to exert all my
strength in lading the water out, as fast as it came in. The while
darkness, palpable and rayless, hemmed us round, dissipated only by the
lightning; sometimes we beheld thunderbolts, fiery red, fall into the sea,
and at intervals vast spouts stooped from the clouds, churning the wild
ocean, which rose to meet them; while the fierce gale bore the rack
onwards, and they were lost in the chaotic mingling of sky and sea. Our
gunwales had been torn away, our single sail had been rent to ribbands, and
borne down the stream of the wind. We had cut away our mast, and lightened
the boat of all she contained--Clara attempted to assist me in heaving
the water from the hold, and, as she turned her eyes to look on the
lightning, I could discern by that momentary gleam, that resignation had
conquered every fear. We have a power given us in any worst extremity,
which props the else feeble mind of man, and enables us to endure the most
savage tortures with a stillness of soul which in hours of happiness we
could not have imagined. A calm, more dreadful in truth than the tempest,
allayed the wild beatings of my heart--a calm like that of the gamester,
the suicide, and the murderer, when the last die is on the point of being
cast--while the poisoned cup is at the lips,--as the death-blow is
about to be given.

Hours passed thus--hours which might write old age on the face of
beardless youth, and grizzle the silky hair of infancy---hours, while the
chaotic uproar continued, while each dread gust transcended in fury the one
before, and our skiff hung on the breaking wave, and then rushed into the
valley below, and trembled and spun between the watery precipices that
seemed most to meet above her. For a moment the gale paused, and ocean sank
to comparative silence--it was a breathless interval; the wind which, as
a practised leaper, had gathered itself up before it sprung, now with
terrific roar rushed over the sea, and the waves struck our stern. Adrian
exclaimed that the rudder was gone;--"We are lost," cried Clara, "Save
yourselves--O save yourselves!" The lightning shewed me the poor girl
half buried in the water at the bottom of the boat; as she was sinking in
it Adrian caught her up, and sustained her in his arms. We were without a
rudder--we rushed prow foremost into the vast billows piled up a-head--
they broke over and filled the tiny skiff; one scream I heard--one cry
that we were gone, I uttered; I found myself in the waters; darkness was
around. When the light of the tempest flashed, I saw the keel of our upset
boat close to me--I clung to this, grasping it with clenched hand and
nails, while I endeavoured during each flash to discover any appearance of
my companions. I thought I saw Adrian at no great distance from me,
clinging to an oar; I sprung from my hold, and with energy beyond my human
strength, I dashed aside the waters as I strove to lay hold of him. As that
hope failed, instinctive love of life animated me, and feelings of
contention, as if a hostile will combated with mine. I breasted the surges,
and flung them from me, as I would the opposing front and sharpened claws
of a lion about to enfang my bosom. When I had been beaten down by one
wave, I rose on another, while I felt bitter pride curl my lip.

Ever since the storm had carried us near the shore, we had never attained
any great distance from it. With every flash I saw the bordering coast; yet
the progress I made was small, while each wave, as it receded, carried me
back into ocean's far abysses. At one moment I felt my foot touch the sand,
and then again I was in deep water; my arms began to lose their power of
motion; my breath failed me under the influence of the strangling waters--
a thousand wild and delirious thoughts crossed me: as well as I can now
recall them, my chief feeling was, how sweet it would be to lay my head on
the quiet earth, where the surges would no longer strike my weakened frame,
nor the sound of waters ring in my ears--to attain this repose, not to
save my life, I made a last effort--the shelving shore suddenly presented
a footing for me. I rose, and was again thrown down by the breakers--a
point of rock to which I was enabled to cling, gave me a moment's respite;
and then, taking advantage of the ebbing of the waves, I ran forwards--
gained the dry sands, and fell senseless on the oozy reeds that sprinkled
them.

I must have lain long deprived of life; for when first, with a sickening
feeling, I unclosed my eyes, the light of morning met them. Great change
had taken place meanwhile: grey dawn dappled the flying clouds, which sped
onwards, leaving visible at intervals vast lakes of pure ether. A fountain
of light arose in an encreasing stream from the east, behind the waves of
the Adriatic, changing the grey to a roseate hue, and then flooding sky and
sea with aerial gold.

A kind of stupor followed my fainting; my senses were alive, but memory was
extinct. The blessed respite was short--a snake lurked near me to sting
me into life--on the first retrospective emotion I would have started up,
but my limbs refused to obey me; my knees trembled, the muscles had lost
all power. I still believed that I might find one of my beloved companions
cast like me, half alive, on the beach; and I strove in every way to
restore my frame to the use of its animal functions. I wrung the brine from
my hair; and the rays of the risen sun soon visited me with genial warmth.
With the restoration of my bodily powers, my mind became in some degree
aware of the universe of misery, henceforth to be its dwelling. I ran to
the water's edge, calling on the beloved names. Ocean drank in, and
absorbed my feeble voice, replying with pitiless roar. I climbed a near
tree: the level sands bounded by a pine forest, and the sea clipped round
by the horizon, was all that I could discern. In vain I extended my
researches along the beach; the mast we had thrown overboard, with tangled
cordage, and remnants of a sail, was the sole relic land received of our
wreck. Sometimes I stood still, and wrung my hands. I accused earth and sky
--the universal machine and the Almighty power that misdirected it. Again
I threw myself on the sands, and then the sighing wind, mimicking a human
cry, roused me to bitter, fallacious hope. Assuredly if any little bark or
smallest canoe had been near, I should have sought the savage plains of
ocean, found the dear remains of my lost ones, and clinging round them,
have shared their grave.

The day passed thus; each moment contained eternity; although when hour
after hour had gone by, I wondered at the quick flight of time. Yet even
now I had not drunk the bitter potion to the dregs; I was not yet persuaded
of my loss; I did not yet feel in every pulsation, in every nerve, in every
thought, that I remained alone of my race,--that I was the LAST MAN.

The day had clouded over, and a drizzling rain set in at sunset. Even the
eternal skies weep, I thought; is there any shame then, that mortal man
should spend himself in tears? I remembered the ancient fables, in which
human beings are described as dissolving away through weeping into
ever-gushing fountains. Ah! that so it were; and then my destiny would be
in some sort akin to the watery death of Adrian and Clara. Oh! grief is
fantastic; it weaves a web on which to trace the history of its woe from
every form and change around; it incorporates itself with all living
nature; it finds sustenance in every object; as light, it fills all things,
and, like light, it gives its own colours to all.

I had wandered in my search to some distance from the spot on which I had
been cast, and came to one of those watch-towers, which at stated distances
line the Italian shore. I was glad of shelter, glad to find a work of human
hands, after I had gazed so long on nature's drear barrenness; so I
entered, and ascended the rough winding staircase into the guard-room. So
far was fate kind, that no harrowing vestige remained of its former
inhabitants; a few planks laid across two iron tressels, and strewed with
the dried leaves of Indian corn, was the bed presented to me; and an open
chest, containing some half mouldered biscuit, awakened an appetite, which
perhaps existed before, but of which, until now, I was not aware. Thirst
also, violent and parching, the result of the sea-water I had drank, and of
the exhaustion of my frame, tormented me. Kind nature had gifted the supply
of these wants with pleasurable sensations, so that I--even I!--was
refreshed and calmed, as I ate of this sorry fare, and drank a little of
the sour wine which half filled a flask left in this abandoned dwelling.
Then I stretched myself on the bed, not to be disdained by the victim of
shipwreck. The earthy smell of the dried leaves was balm to my sense after
the hateful odour of sea-weed. I forgot my state of loneliness. I neither
looked backward nor forward; my senses were hushed to repose; I fell asleep
and dreamed of all dear inland scenes, of hay-makers, of the shepherd's
whistle to his dog, when he demanded his help to drive the flock to fold;
of sights and sounds peculiar to my boyhood's mountain life, which I had
long forgotten.

I awoke in a painful agony--for I fancied that ocean, breaking its
bounds, carried away the fixed continent and deep rooted mountains,
together with the streams I loved, the woods, and the flocks--it raged
around, with that continued and dreadful roar which had accompanied the
last wreck of surviving humanity. As my waking sense returned, the bare
walls of the guard room closed round me, and the rain pattered against the
single window. How dreadful it is, to emerge from the oblivion of slumber,
and to receive as a good morrow the mute wailing of one's own hapless heart
--to return from the land of deceptive dreams, to the heavy knowledge of
unchanged disaster!--Thus was it with me, now, and for ever! The sting of
other griefs might be blunted by time; and even mine yielded sometimes
during the day, to the pleasure inspired by the imagination or the senses;
but I never look first upon the morning-light but with my fingers pressed
tight on my bursting heart, and my soul deluged with the interminable flood
of hopeless misery. Now I awoke for the first time in the dead world--I
awoke alone--and the dull dirge of the sea, heard even amidst the rain,
recalled me to the reflection of the wretch I had become. The sound came
like a reproach, a scoff--like the sting of remorse in the soul--I
gasped--the veins and muscles of my throat swelled, suffocating me. I put
my fingers to my ears, I buried my head in the leaves of my couch, I would
have dived to the centre to lose hearing of that hideous moan.

But another task must be mine--again I visited the detested beach--
again I vainly looked far and wide--again I raised my unanswered cry,
lifting up the only voice that could ever again force the mute air to
syllable the human thought.

What a pitiable, forlorn, disconsolate being I was! My very aspect and garb
told the tale of my despair. My hair was matted and wild--my limbs soiled
with salt ooze; while at sea, I had thrown off those of my garments that
encumbered me, and the rain drenched the thin summer-clothing I had
retained--my feet were bare, and the stunted reeds and broken shells made
them bleed--the while, I hurried to and fro, now looking earnestly on
some distant rock which, islanded in the sands, bore for a moment a
deceptive appearance--now with flashing eyes reproaching the murderous
ocean for its unutterable cruelty.

For a moment I compared myself to that monarch of the waste--Robinson
Crusoe. We had been both thrown companionless--he on the shore of a
desolate island: I on that of a desolate world. I was rich in the so called
goods of life. If I turned my steps from the near barren scene, and entered
any of the earth's million cities, I should find their wealth stored up for
my accommodation--clothes, food, books, and a choice of dwelling beyond
the command of the princes of former times--every climate was subject to
my selection, while he was obliged to toil in the acquirement of every
necessary, and was the inhabitant of a tropical island, against whose heats
and storms he could obtain small shelter.--Viewing the question thus, who
would not have preferred the Sybarite enjoyments I could command, the
philosophic leisure, and ample intellectual resources, to his life of
labour and peril? Yet he was far happier than I: for he could hope, nor
hope in vain--the destined vessel at last arrived, to bear him to
countrymen and kindred, where the events of his solitude became a fire-side
tale. To none could I ever relate the story of my adversity; no hope had I.
He knew that, beyond the ocean which begirt his lonely island, thousands
lived whom the sun enlightened when it shone also on him: beneath the
meridian sun and visiting moon, I alone bore human features; I alone could
give articulation to thought; and, when I slept, both day and night were
unbeheld of any. He had fled from his fellows, and was transported with
terror at the print of a human foot. I would have knelt down and worshipped
the same. The wild and cruel Caribbee, the merciless Cannibal--or worse
than these, the uncouth, brute, and remorseless veteran in the vices of
civilization, would have been to me a beloved companion, a treasure dearly
prized--his nature would be kin to mine; his form cast in the same mould;
human blood would flow in his veins; a human sympathy must link us for
ever. It cannot be that I shall never behold a fellow being more!--never!
--never!--not in the course of years!--Shall I wake, and speak to
none, pass the interminable hours, my soul, islanded in the world, a
solitary point, surrounded by vacuum? Will day follow day endlessly thus?
--No! no! a God rules the world--providence has not exchanged its golden
sceptre for an aspic's sting. Away! let me fly from the ocean-grave, let me
depart from this barren nook, paled in, as it is, from access by its own
desolateness; let me tread once again the paved towns; step over the
threshold of man's dwellings, and most certainly I shall find this thought
a horrible vision--a maddening, but evanescent dream.

I entered Ravenna, (the town nearest to the spot whereon I had been cast),
before the second sun had set on the empty world; I saw many living
creatures; oxen, and horses, and dogs, but there was no man among them; I
entered a cottage, it was vacant; I ascended the marble stairs of a palace,
the bats and the owls were nestled in the tapestry; I stepped softly, not
to awaken the sleeping town: I rebuked a dog, that by yelping disturbed the
sacred stillness; I would not believe that all was as it seemed--The
world was not dead, but I was mad; I was deprived of sight, hearing, and
sense of touch; I was labouring under the force of a spell, which permitted
me to behold all sights of earth, except its human inhabitants; they were
pursuing their ordinary labours. Every house had its inmate; but I could
not perceive them. If I could have deluded myself into a belief of this
kind, I should have been far more satisfied. But my brain, tenacious of its
reason, refused to lend itself to such imaginations--and though I
endeavoured to play the antic to myself, I knew that I, the offspring of
man, during long years one among many--now remained sole survivor of my
species.

The sun sank behind the western hills; I had fasted since the preceding
evening, but, though faint and weary, I loathed food, nor ceased, while yet
a ray of light remained, to pace the lonely streets. Night came on, and
sent every living creature but me to the bosom of its mate. It was my
solace, to blunt my mental agony by personal hardship--of the thousand
beds around, I would not seek the luxury of one; I lay down on the
pavement,--a cold marble step served me for a pillow--midnight came;
and then, though not before, did my wearied lids shut out the sight of the
twinkling stars, and their reflex on the pavement near. Thus I passed the
second night of my desolation.

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