And his head snapped back with a sharp, neck-breaking jerk. By God, he’d nearly⁠— chat⁠—chitter-chatter-chat-chat ⁠— For a moment he took it in without understanding And then the vein in his forehead began to swell And his eyes bulged wide awake. “By Jesus!” he said, And stared at the sounder as if it had turned to a snake. “By Jesus!” he said, “By Jesus, they’ve done it!” he said.

The cruelty of cold trumpets wounds the air. The ponderous princes draw their gauntlets on. The captains fit their coal-black armor on.