cloak hung on a peg. My hand moved towards it, apparently of its
own volition. I put it on, its ample folds falling to my feet.

'In the other cupboard you will find meat, and bread, and wine.
Eat and drink.'

On the opposite side of the room, near the head of his bed, there
was a second cupboard. In this, upon a shelf, I found what looked
like pressed beef, several round cakes of what tasted like rye
bread, and some thin, sour wine, in a straw-covered flask. But I
was in no mood to criticise; I crammed myself, I believe, like
some famished wolf, he watching me, in silence, all the time. When
I had done, which was when I had eaten and drunk as much as I
could hold, there returned to his face that satyr's grin.

'I would that I could eat and drink like that,--ah yes!--Put back
what is left.' I put it back,--which seemed an unnecessary
exertion, there was so little to put. 'Look me in the face.'

I looked him in the face,--and immediately became conscious, as I
did so, that something was going from me,--the capacity, as it
were, to be myself. His eyes grew larger and larger, till they
seemed to fill all space--till I became lost in their immensity.
He moved his hand, doing something to me, I know not what, as it
passed through the air--cutting the solid ground from underneath
my feet, so that I fell headlong to the ground. Where I fell,
there I lay, like a log.

And the light went out.