And she gave a gentle, smiling nod.
Yes, of course, she understood now, told him that Pauline was well.
Yes, yes, he remembered: Mamma, the children, Pauline. . . . They were as ghosts in his empty memory, looming up and making him ask questions of the women around him. But, apart from that, his memory was one vast emptiness, like an empty universe, now that the beast had vanished into space . . . into nothingness . . . into nothingness. . . .
He had no marrow left: the beast would not eat him up any more. There was no centipede rooting at his carcase now. Lord, Lord, how done he felt, how utterly done for! . . .
He now recognized his doctor:
"Ah, is that you, Alsma?"
"Well, Van Lowe, do you recognize me?"
"Yes, yes. . . . Didn't I recognize you before?"
"No . . . once or twice you didn't know who I was. . . . Well, you'll soon be all right again now. You're getting better every day. . . ."
"Yes, yes . . . but . . ."
"What?"
"I feel very queer . . . damned queer. . . ."
"Yes, you're a bit weak still. . . ."
"A bit weak? . . ."
He gave a grin. He felt his arm, thought it odd that he couldn't find his biceps:
