Almost involuntarily I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to find
another man there. It was a moment's madness, but as a matter of fact I
did not recognize myself. It seemed to me that the change in the man
upstairs, who had passed from the world of living things with breath in
his body and life in his brain to the cold negation of death, was a
change no greater than had come to me. For I was passing, as I knew very
well, from behind the fences of my somewhat narrow but well-contained
life into the great world of tragical happenings, where life and death
are but small things, and one's self but a pawn in the great game. This,
because I believed, because I had accepted the trust of the man who, a
few hours ago, had closed his eyes with his hand in mine, and the faint
welcoming smile upon his lips of a brave but weary man, who finds nothing
terrible in death.
There was something almost fearful in a change so absolute and vital as
that which had come over my life. I realized this as I allowed myself a
few moments' rest, and threw myself upon the sofa.
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