ask for any loans, which clearly testified to the complete decline of
his energy. His soul was dead--as much as the soul can be dead while
the body is alive. To Max all that he had loved and believed in was
dead. Impenetrable gloom wrapped his soul. There were neither feelings
in it, nor desires, nor thoughts. And there was not a more unhappy man
in the world than Max, if he was a man at all.

But he was a man.

According to the calendar, it was Friday or Saturday, when Max
awakened as from a prolonged sleep. With the pleasant sensation of
an owner to whom his property has been restored which had wrongly
been taken from him, Max realised that he was once more in possession
of all his five senses.

His sight reported to him that he was all alone, in a place which
might in justice be called either a room or a chimney. Each wall of
the room was about a metre and a half wide and about ten metres high.
The walls were straight, white, smooth, with no openings, except one
through which food was brought to Max. An electric lamp was burning
brightly on the ceiling. It was burning all the time, so that Max
did not know now what darkness was. There was no furniture in the
room, and Max had to lie on the stone floor. He lay curled together,
as the narrowness of the room did not permit him to stretch himself.

His sense of hearing reported to him that until the day of his death
he would not leave this room.... Having reported this, his hearing
sank into inactivity, for not the slightest sound came from without,
except the sounds which Max himself produced, tossing about, or
shouting until he was hoarse, until he lost his voice.