They faded, pale and empty, as if
trembling on weak feet, as if slipping and falling, drunk with the
wine of anguish and despair. And black chasms appeared between the two
men--like remote hints of vast emptiness and vast darkness.
"Now I am your guest and you will not ill-treat me, Lazarus!" said the
Roman. "Hospitality is binding even upon those who have been three
days dead. Three days, I am told, you were in the grave. It must have
been cold there... and it is from there that you have brought this bad
habit of doing without light and wine. I like a light. It gets dark so
quickly here. Your eyebrows and forehead have an interesting line:
even as the ruins of castles covered with the ashes of an earthquake.
But why in such strange, ugly clothes? I have seen the bridegrooms of
your country, they wear clothes like that--such ridiculous
clothes--such awful garments... Are you a bridegroom?"
Already the sun had disappeared. A gigantic black shadow was
approaching fast from the west, as if prodigious bare feet were
rustling over the sand. And the chill breezes stole up behind.
"In the darkness you seem even bigger, Lazarus, as though you had
grown stouter in these few minutes.
Pages:
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394