‘When you say it like this, certainly it appears absurd. He has no imagination, no real generosity. "So that was it? And what the devil are you doing here, moping alone on the beach? Why aren't you with her in this hour of bitterness?" "What can I do?" "You can go to her and take her in your arms. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles.
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