This item is
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)
Publicly Available
and licensed under:Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)
Files for this item
- Name
- dubliners-0079.txt
- Size
- 371.83 KB
- Format
- Text file
- Description
- Version of the work in plain text format
THERE was no hope for him this time : it was the third 009 stroke . Night after night I had passed the house ( it was vacation time ) and studied the lighted square of window : and night after night I had found it lighted in the same way , faintly and evenly . If he was dead , I thought , I would see the reflection of candles on the darkened blind for I knew that two candles must be set at the head of a corpse . He had often said to me : I# am# not# long# for# this# world# , and I had thought his words idle . Now I knew they were true . Every night as I gazed up at the window I said softly to myself the word paralysis# . It had always sounded strangely in my ears , like the word gnomon# in the Euclid and the word simony# in the Catechism . But now it sounded to me like the name of some maleficent and sinful being . It filled me with fear , and yet I longed to be nearer to it and look upon its deadly work .. Old Cotter was sitting at the fire , smoking , when I came . . .
