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and, sticking there, overpowered he fell with his face upon the terribly disfigured head.
Salman had been a rich speculator. I had met him before, very often. But what I saw now did not only remind me of Salman, but was not like a human shape in any way.
Driven mad with what I saw, and covered with dust, I was carried on by the crowd, like powder swept away by the wind. The picture before my eyes surpassed in its horror anything I had ever seen before, and seemed to be some dreadful nightmare. A woman in a white skirt was hanging on the projecting end of the spouting. An old woman stand-on tip-toe, and lifting her bony black arms, tried to drag her down. Around her were heaped dishevelled wigs entangled in velvet waistcoats. The children stepped on the old people’s feet,
