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ceptibly and stealthily, making it difficult to realise that night was advancing. They began to speak now of those dreadful feelings and thoughts, which sometimes visit one during the night, when one cannot sleep, and when nothing disturbs the silence, neither rustling nor speech, and when this wild, dreadful nightmare called life presses down upon one.
“Can you imagine what infinity is like?” asked Tenaida, touching her forehead with her hand and rapidly twink ling her eyes.”
“No; infinity? No,” answered Niemoviecki, at the same time closing his eyes.
“But I see it sometimes. I saw it for the first time when I was still very young.
“It was like carts, one cart was standing alone, then a second, and a third—and so on, continually, carts, carts. Such a scene!” She shivered.”
