Glory
“Almost at once the Frenchman began to snore. “Yes, he did believe I was English. Ong sahng le soude. Like this I shall travel north, exactly like this, in a coach that one cannot stop—and after that, after that——” He began to follow a forest path, the path unwound, kept unwinding, but sleep did not come to meet him. Martin opened his eyes. Good idea to lower the window. A mild night flooded his face and straining his eyes Martin leaned out, but invisible dust flew into his eyes, speed blinded h...im; he drew back his head. A cough resounded in the darkened compartment. “No, no. Be so kind,” said a cross voice. “I have no desire to sleep under the stars. Close it, close it.” “Close it yourself,” said Martin. He stepped out into the lighted corridor and walked past the compartments where one could guess the jumbled presence of slumbering, helpless, half-undressed bodies, wheezes and sighs, mouths opened fish-fashion, a sinking head jerking up again, a soft foot right next to a stranger’s nose.MoreLess
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