Колодець і маятник

           Impiatortorumlongoshicturbafurores 

           Sanguinisinnocui,nonsatiata,aluit. 

           Sospitenuncpatria,fractonuncfunerisantro, 

           Morsubidirafuitvitasalusquepatent. 

           (QuatraincomposedforthegatesofamarkettobeerecteduponthesiteoftheJacobinClubHouseatParis.) 

           Iwassick—sickuntodeathwiththatlongagony;andwhentheyatlengthunboundme,andIwaspermittedtosit,Ifeltthatmysenseswereleavingme. Thesentence—thedreadsentenceofdeath—wasthelastofdistinctaccentuationwhichreachedmyears. Afterthat,thesoundoftheinquisitorialvoicesseemedmergedinonedreamyindeterminatehum. Itconveyedtomysoultheideaofrevolution—perhapsfromitsassociationinfancywiththeburrofamillwheel. Thisonlyforabriefperiod;forpresentlyIheardnomore. Yet,forawhile,Isaw;butwithhowterribleanexaggeration! Isawthelipsoftheblack-robedjudges. Theyappearedtomewhite—whiterthanthesheetuponwhichItracethesewords—andthineventogrotesqueness;thinwiththeintensityoftheirexpressionoffirmness—ofimmoveableresolution—ofsterncontemptofhumantorture. IsawthatthedecreesofwhattomewasFate,werestillissuingfromthoselips. Isawthemwrithewithadeadlylocution. Isawthemfashionthesyllablesofmyname;andIshudderedbecausenosoundsucceeded.