it, tugging furiously at the lid.

I was frenzied--no less. My nails were torn until the blood gushed.
Lights danced before me; bells rang in my ears; the pressure on my lungs
grew more intolerable with each moment; but still I fought with that
lid. Seven devils were within me and helped me; and all the while I
knew that I was dying, that unless the box were opened in a moment or
two it would be too late.

The sweat ran off my eyebrows and dripped on the box. My breath came
and went in sobs. I could not die. I could not, must not die. And so
I tugged and strained and tugged again.

Then, as I felt the black anguish of the Blue Room descending a second
time upon me, I seemed to put all my strength into my hands. From the
lid or from my own throat--I could not distinguish--there came a creak
and a long groan. I tore back the board and fell on the heath with one
shuddering breath of relief.

And drawing it, I raised my head and looked over the coffin's edge.
Still drawing it, I tumbled back.

White, cold, with the last struggle fixed on its features and open eyes,
it was my own dead face that stared up at me!



IV.