Хвилі

           ’Heisdead,’saidNeville.’Hefell.Hishorsetripped.Hewasthrown.Thesailsoftheworldhaveswungroundandcaughtmeonthehead.Allisover.Thelightsoftheworldhavegoneout.TherestandsthetreewhichIcannotpass.

           ’Oh,tocrumplethistelegraminmyfingers--toletthelightoftheworldfloodback--tosaythishasnothappened!Butwhyturnone’sheadhitherandthither?Thisisthetruth.Thisisthefact.Hishorsestumbled;hewasthrown.Theflashingtreesandwhiterailswentupinashower.Therewasasurge;adrumminginhisears.Thentheblow;theworldcrashed;hebreathedheavily.Hediedwherehefell.

           ’Barnsandsummerdaysinthecountry,roomswherewesat--allnowlieintheunrealworldwhichisgone.Mypastiscutfromme.Theycamerunning.Theycarriedhimtosomepavilion,meninriding-boots,meninsunhelmets;amongunknownmenhedied.Lonelinessandsilenceoftensurroundedhim.Heoftenleftme.Andthen,returning,"Seewherehecomes!"Isaid.

           ’Womenshufflepastthewindowasiftherewerenogulfcutinthestreet,notreewithstiffleaveswhichwecannotpass.Wedeservethentobetrippedbymolehills.Weareinfinitelyabject,shufflingpastwithoureyesshut.ButwhyshouldIsubmit?Whytrytoliftmyfootandmountthestair?ThisiswhereIstand;here,holdingthetelegram.Thepast,summerdaysandroomswherewesat,streamawaylikeburntpaperwithredeyesinit.Whymeetandresume?Whytalkandeatandmakeupothercombinationswithotherpeople?FromthismomentIamsolitary.Noonewillknowmenow.