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The whole story was
monstrous, and only worthy of the superstitious days in which it was
written. At any rate I was very sure that _I_ would not attempt to
attain unending life. I had had far too many worries and disappointments
and secret bitternesses during my forty odd years of existence to wish
that this state of affairs should be continued indefinitely. And yet I
suppose that my life has been, comparatively speaking, a happy one.
And then, reflecting that at the present moment there was far more
likelihood of our earthly careers being cut exceedingly short than of
their being unduly prolonged, I at last managed to get to sleep, a fact
for which anybody who reads this narrative, if anybody ever does, may
very probably be thankful.
When I woke again it was just dawning, and the guard and bearers were
moving about like ghosts through the dense morning mists, getting ready
for our start. The fire had died quite down, and I rose and stretched
myself, shivering in every limb from the damp cold of the dawn.


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