firm conviction of his fearless will, his little, shrunken, womanish
fear was drowned, leaving no trace. With an infernal machine at his
girdle, he made the cruel force of dynamite his own, also its fiery
death-bearing power. And as he walked along the street, amidst the
bustling, plain people, who were occupied with their affairs, who were
hurriedly avoiding the dangers from the horses of carriages and cars,
he seemed to himself as a stranger from another, unknown world, where
neither death nor fear was known.

And suddenly this harsh, wild, stupefying change. He can no longer go
where he pleases, but he is led where others please. He can no longer
choose the place he likes, but he is placed in a stone cage, and
locked up like a thing. He can no longer choose freely, like all
people, between life and death, but he will surely and inevitably be
put to death. The incarnation of will-power, life and strength an
instant before, he has now become a wretched image of the most pitiful
weakness in the world. He has been transformed into an animal waiting
to be slaughtered, a deaf-mute object which may be taken from place to
place, burnt and broken. It matters not what he might say, nobody
would listen to his words, and if he endeavored to shout, they would
stop his mouth with a rag. Whether he can walk alone or not, they will
take him away and hang him.

And if he should offer resistance, struggle or lie down on the
ground-they will overpower him, lift him, bind him and carry him,
bound, to the gallows. And the fact that this machine-like work will
be performed over him by human beings like himself, lent to them a
new, extraordinary and ominous aspect- they seemed to him like ghosts
that came to him for this one purpose, or like automatic puppets on
springs. They would seize him, take him, carry him, hang him, pull him