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Then
came
one
January
of
fog
and
rain
,
when
money
ran
low
and
drugs
were
hard
to
buy
.
My
statues
and
ivory
heads
were
all
sold
,
and
I
had
no
means
to
purchase
new
materials
,
or
energy
to
fashion
them
even
had
I
possessed
them
.
We
suffered
terribly
,
and
on
a
certain
night
my
friend
sank
into
a
deep-breathing
sleep
from
which
I
could
not
awaken
him
.
I
can
recall
the
scene
now
--
the
desolate
,
pitch-black
garret
studio
under
the
eaves
with
the
rain
beating
down
;
the
ticking
of
our
lone
clock
;
the
fancied
ticking
of
our
watches
as
they
rested
on
the
dressing-table
;
the
creaking
of
some
swaying
shutter
in
a
remote
part
of
the
house
;
certain
distant
city
noises
muffled
by
fog
and
space
;
and
,
worst
of
all
,
the
deep
,
steady
,
sinister
breathing
of
my
friend
on
the
couch
--
a
rhythmical
breathing
which
seemed
to
measure
moments
of
supernal
fear
and
agony
for
his
spirit
as
it
wandered
in
spheres
forbidden
,
unimagined
,
and
hideously
remote
.
The
tension
of
my
vigil
became
oppressive
,
and
a
wild
train
of
trivial
impressions
and
associations
thronged
through
my
almost
unhinged
mind
.
I
heard
a
clock
strike
somewhere
--
not
ours
,
for
that
was
not
a
striking
clock
--
and
my
morbid
fancy
found
in
this
a
new
starting-point
for
idle
wanderings
.
Clocks
--
time
--
space
--
infinity
--
and
then
my
fancy
reverted
to
the
locale
as
I
reflected
that
even
now
,
beyond
the
roof
and
the
fog
and
the
rain
and
the
atmosphere
,
Corona
Borealis
was
rising
in
the
northeast
.
Corona
Borealis
,
which
my
friend
had
appeared
to
dread
,
and
whose
scintillant
semicircle
of
stars
must
even
now
be
glowing
unseen
through
the
measureless
abysses
of
aether
.
All
at
once
my
feverishly
sensitive
ears
seemed
to
detect
a
new
and
wholly
distinct
component
in
the
soft
medley
of
drug-magnified
sounds
--
a
low
and
damnably
insistent
whine
from
very
far
away
;
droning
,
clamoring
,
mocking
,
calling
,
from
the
northeast
.
But
it
was
not
that
distant
whine
which
robbed
me
of
my
faculties
and
set
upon
my
soul
such
a
seal
of
fright
as
may
never
in
life
be
removed
;
not
that
which
drew
the
shrieks
and
excited
the
convulsions
which
caused
lodgers
and
police
to
break
down
the
door
.
It
was
not
what
I
heard
,
but
what
I
saw
;
for
in
that
dark
,
locked
,
shuttered
,
and
curtained
room
there
appeared
from
the
black
northeast
corner
a
shaft
of
horrible
red-gold
light
--
a
shaft
which
bore
with
it
no
glow
to
disperse
the
darkness
,
but
which
streamed
only
upon
the
recumbent
head
of
the
troubled
sleeper
,
bringing
out
in
hideous
duplication
the
luminous
and
strangely
youthful
memory-face
as
I
had
known
it
in
dreams
of
abysmal
space
and
unshackled
time
,
when
my
friend
had
pushed
behind
the
barrier
to
those
secret
,
innermost
and
forbidden
caverns
of
nightmare
.
And
as
I
looked
,
I
beheld
the
head
rise
,
the
black
,
liquid
,
and
deep-sunken
eyes
open
in
terror
,
and
the
thin
,
shadowed
lips
part
as
if
for
a
scream
too
frightful
to
be
uttered
.
There
dwelt
in
that
ghastly
and
flexible
face
,
as
it
shone
bodiless
,
luminous
,
and
rejuvenated
in
the
blackness
,
more
of
stark
,
teeming
,
brain-shattering
fear
than
all
the
rest
of
heaven
and
earth
has
ever
revealed
to
me
.
No
word
was
spoken
amidst
the
distant
sound
that
grew
nearer
and
nearer
,
but
as
I
followed
the
memory-face
's
mad
stare
along
that
cursed
shaft
of
light
to
its
source
,
the
source
whence
also
the
whining
came
,
I
,
too
,
saw
for
an
instant
what
it
saw
,
and
fell
with
ringing
ears
in
that
fit
of
shrieking
epilepsy
which
brought
the
lodgers
and
the
police
.
Never
could
I
tell
,
try
as
I
might
,
what
it
actually
was
that
I
saw
;
nor
could
the
still
face
tell
,
for
although
it
must
have
seen
more
than
I
did
,
it
will
never
speak
again
.
But
always
I
shall
guard
against
the
mocking
and
insatiate
Hypnos
,
lord
of
sleep
,
against
the
night
sky
,
and
against
the
mad
ambitions
of
knowledge
and
philosophy
.
Just
what
happened
is
unknown
,
for
not
only
was
my
own
mind
unseated
by
the
strange
and
hideous
thing
,
but
others
were
tainted
with
a
forgetfulness
which
can
mean
nothing
if
not
madness
.
They
have
said
,
I
know
not
for
what
reason
,
that
I
never
had
a
friend
;
but
that
art
,
philosophy
,
and
insanity
had
filled
all
my
tragic
life
.
The
lodgers
and
police
on
that
night
soothed
me
,
and
the
doctor
administered
something
to
quiet
me
,
nor
did
anyone
see
what
a
nightmare
event
had
taken
place
.
My
stricken
friend
moved
them
to
no
pity
,
but
what
they
found
on
the
couch
in
the
studio
made
them
give
me
a
praise
which
sickened
me
,
and
now
a
fame
which
I
spurn
in
despair
as
I
sit
for
hours
,
bald
,
gray-bearded
,
shriveled
,
palsied
,
drug-crazed
,
and
broken
,
adoring
and
praying
to
the
object
they
found
.
For
they
deny
that
I
sold
the
last
of
my
statuary
,
and
point
with
ecstasy
at
the
thing
which
the
shining
shaft
of
light
left
cold
,
petrified
,
and
unvocal
.
It
is
all
that
remains
of
my
friend
;
the
friend
who
led
me
on
to
madness
and
wreckage
;
a
godlike
head
of
such
marble
as
only
old
Hellas
could
yield
,
young
with
the
youth
that
is
outside
time
,
and
with
beauteous
bearded
face
,
curved
,
smiling
lips
,
Olympian
brow
,
and
dense
locks
waving
and
poppy-crowned
.
They
say
that
that
haunting
memory-face
is
modeled
from
my
own
,
as
it
was
at
twenty-five
;
but
upon
the
marble
base
is
carven
a
single
name
in
the
letters
of
Attica
--
HYPNOS
.