No one dared to look at Lazarus.
And in the evening, when the sun, swollen crimson and growing larger,
bent its way toward the west, blind Lazarus slowly groped after it. He
stumbled against stones and fell; corpulent and feeble, he rose
heavily and walked on; and against the red curtain of sunset his dark
form and outstretched arms gave him the semblance of a cross.
It happened once that he went and never returned. Thus ended the
second life of Lazarus, who for three days had been in the mysterious
thraldom of death and then was miraculously raised from the dead.
THE REVOLUTIONIST
BY MICHAIL P. ARTZYBASHEV
I
Gabriel Andersen, the teacher, walked to the edge of the school
garden, where he paused, undecided what to do. Off in the distance,
two miles away, the woods hung like bluish lace over a field of pure
snow. It was a brilliant day. A hundred tints glistened on the white
ground and the iron bars of the garden railing. There was a lightness
and transparency in the air that only the days of early spring
possess. Gabriel Andersen turned his steps toward the fringe of blue
lace for a tramp in the woods.
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