slowly followed the movements of the boy walking yonder. Now, simultaneously with this glance it rose and sank on his breast, so that his eyes looked out from underneath, while his face took on the loose, inwardly relaxed expression of deep sleep. But it seemed to him as though the pale and lovely lure out there were smiling to him, nodding to him; as though, removing his hand from his hip, he were signalling to come out, were vaguely guiding towards egregious promises. And, as often before, he stood up to follow him.
Some minutes passed before any one hurried to the aid of the man who had collapsed into one corner of his chair. He was brought to his room. And on the same day a respectfully shocked world received the news of his death.
The End
LULLABY
So the boughs tap on the door you've shut,
In the darkness shaking?
So the drops drip from the water-butt,
Like a heart that's breaking?
Comb your hair till it's smooth and neat,
Blow out the candle, fold your gown,
Shroud yourself in your cold cold sheet
And lay you down.
Let the trees moan, let the drops fall—
When a man's love is dead
A girl must turn her face to the wall,
Away from him, away from all,
With a sheet about her head!
