Widely parted negro lips.⁠ ⁠… Eyes bulging. I (the real I) grasped my other wild, hairy, heavily breathing self forcibly. I (the real I) said to him, to R- , “In the name of the Well-Doer, please forgive me. I am very sick; I don’t sleep; I do not know what is the matter with me.”

A swiftly passing smile appeared on the thick lips.

“Yes, yes, I understand, I understand. I am familiar with all this, theoretically, of course. Goodbye.”

At the door he turned around like a little black ball, came back to the table and put a book upon it. “This is my latest book. I came to bring it to you. Almost forgot. Goodbye.” ( b like a splash.) The little ball rolled out.

I am alone. Or, to be more exact, I am tête-à-tête with that other self. I sit in the armchair and having crossed my legs, I watch curiously from some indefinite “there,” how I (myself) am shrivelling in my bed!