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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 520 pages of information about The Last Man.
fantastic groupes, and a flame glimmered at intervals on the summit of the pile.  For a time hunger and sleep contended, till the constellations reeled before my eyes and then were lost.  I strove to rise, but my heavy lids closed, my limbs over-wearied, claimed repose—­I rested my head on the stone, I yielded to the grateful sensation of utter forgetfulness; and in that scene of desolation, on that night of despair—­I slept.

[1] Calderon de la Barca.

CHAPTER III.

The stars still shone brightly when I awoke, and Taurus high in the southern heaven shewed that it was midnight.  I awoke from disturbed dreams.  Methought I had been invited to Timon’s last feast; I came with keen appetite, the covers were removed, the hot water sent up its unsatisfying steams, while I fled before the anger of the host, who assumed the form of Raymond; while to my diseased fancy, the vessels hurled by him after me, were surcharged with fetid vapour, and my friend’s shape, altered by a thousand distortions, expanded into a gigantic phantom, bearing on its brow the sign of pestilence.  The growing shadow rose and rose, filling, and then seeming to endeavour to burst beyond, the adamantine vault that bent over, sustaining and enclosing the world.  The night-mare became torture; with a strong effort I threw off sleep, and recalled reason to her wonted functions.  My first thought was Perdita; to her I must return; her I must support, drawing such food from despair as might best sustain her wounded heart; recalling her from the wild excesses of grief, by the austere laws of duty, and the soft tenderness of regret.

The position of the stars was my only guide.  I turned from the awful ruin of the Golden City, and, after great exertion, succeeded in extricating myself from its enclosure.  I met a company of soldiers outside the walls; I borrowed a horse from one of them, and hastened to my sister.  The appearance of the plain was changed during this short interval; the encampment was broken up; the relics of the disbanded army met in small companies here and there; each face was clouded; every gesture spoke astonishment and dismay.

With an heavy heart I entered the palace, and stood fearful to advance, to speak, to look.  In the midst of the hall was Perdita; she sat on the marble pavement, her head fallen on her bosom, her hair dishevelled, her fingers twined busily one within the other; she was pale as marble, and every feature was contracted by agony.  She perceived me, and looked up enquiringly; her half glance of hope was misery; the words died before I could articulate them; I felt a ghastly smile wrinkle my lips.  She understood my gesture; again her head fell; again her fingers worked restlessly.  At last I recovered speech, but my voice terrified her; the hapless girl had understood my look, and for worlds she would not that the tale of her heavy misery should have been shaped out and confirmed by

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