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Seven Who Were Hanged by Leonid Nikolayevich Andreyev
page 86 of 122 (70%)
was planning some mischief. And a feeling of still greater terror came
over Vasily than before the prayer.

Everything now disappeared.

Madness came crawling painfully. His consciousnesss was dying out like
an extinguishing bonfire, growing icy like the corpse of a man who had
just died, whose heart is still warm but whose hands and feet had
already become stiffened with cold. His dying reason flared up as red
as blood again and said that he, Vasily Kashirin, might perhaps become
insane here, suffer pains for which there is no name, reach a degree
of anguish and suffering that had never been experienced by a single
living being; that he might beat his head against the wall, pick his
eyes out with his fingers, speak and shout whatever he pleased, that
he might plead with tears that he could endure it no longer, -and
nothing would happen. Nothing could happen.

And nothing happened. His feet, which had a consciousness and life of
their own, continued to walk and to carry his trembling, moist body.
His hands, which had a consciousness of their own, endeavored in vain
to fasten the coat which was open at his chest and to warm his
trembling, moist body.

His body quivered with cold. His eyes stared. And this was calm itself
embodied.

But there was one more moment of wild terror. That was when people
entered his cell. He did not even imagine that this visit meant that
it was time to go to the execution; he simply saw the people and was
frightened like a child.
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