— What a fool you are! Don't you know how to stop when you see a car coming? — "Stop! I nearly ran you down and flung you to your death." Angry, raging shouts leap at him from the belly of the street; he trembles and draws back from the wheels, his head lowered... "Wheels... a car, then another... shouting... then death... What is this man staring at?"

He counted the words, then understood what they meant, and turned slowly and moved away... He hates the noise and the city and the people; he hates cars and bicycles and everything on wheels — and even himself he hates! He felt a crushing, heavy weariness moving through his blood, so he turned toward the sea, led to it by its fresh, gentle breeze; and on the sand he stood contemplating the waves in their rising and falling, in their approach to the shore, surging and strong, and their retreat from it, spent and slow... And he dragged himself to a nearby café and sat at the nearest table, watching the blue from afar... The roar grew confused in his ears, and he went back to listening, straining to hear... wheels... a car, then another... shouting... then death...

"Where are you?... Where is she?... O God... what shall I do to know..." Strange! He who asks should be met with an answer — and here he asks and answers himself with the same question!

He was with her, at her side, in a car racing them toward the capital... She wanted to buy clothes for herself and things for her little house... She was laughing as she pulled her hair from the hand of the playful wind, smiling into his face and looking into his eyes... She was his wife and his bride and everything of him and for him...

And he hid his eyes with his hands... Yes, she was laughing with the gaiety of a happy child... She was happy, secure in his nearness and his arm... He felt his arm, and heard her again whispering to him: This is how I want my life to remain — fragrant with your breath, beautiful with your presence. And a big tear glistened in his eyes; she saw it and said: "How precious it is — it is the juice of your great love..."

Then one of the passengers gave a faint, frightened cry, and the wheels spun and something crashed into something... The shouting merged in his ears with the din; then the din subsided and the shouting went on, and he passed away from everything

around him... He stayed in the hospital a week, waking to sink away and sinking away to wake from a deep, heavy slumber; then his mind cleared a little, and he started up, raising his wounded body and crying:

"For God's sake, what has happened to my wife, and where is she?"

They said: "Do not put the weight of your body on your hand like that... You are suffering from serious injuries as a result of that terrible accident..." The muscles of his face contracted, his eyes flashed with the gleam of a great fear, and he cried again:

"But my wife — has any harm come to her?"

Then the doctor among them spoke, saying, as he tried to lay his head back upon the pillow: Take courage and be a man. Try to forget everything, so that you may soon be healed...

A mad rage took hold of him and he struck the doctor a slap that stunned him; then he fell back on his pillow, his strength gone, hiding his face in his hands and weeping... weeping big tears, one upon another, and not just one big tear... They left him after a thick needle had pricked him; he fought sleep, then surrendered to it... And the struggle began — the struggle of waking and slumber, waking with its pain and its violence, and slumber with its mercy and its stillness... Once he tried to swallow all the pills of his medicine; the nurse came running and the doctor came frowning, marveling at his weakness and the smallness of his manhood... He drew back his hand and slapped no one, and turned his face toward the wall to wait for the thick needle so that he might sleep... Her father visited him many times... He wept when he saw him, then wept when he described her grave to him... She, in a grave?... Impossible... She is alive — the collision of car with car did not cut off her breath! And he ground his teeth, strengthening in himself the faith that she was still among the living... So he began to resist after weakness — to resist along with the treatment and the doctor against the disease — and he was healed after a struggle, and left the hospital after it had swallowed what money he had with him... the money with which she had wanted to buy clothes and things...

And he returned to life, seeking a livelihood so as to live and to search for her... He went back to look for his work in fear and trembling, and the director shook his hand warmly, his voice trembling