Time passed somewhat wearily. I could hear an occasional thud, thud,
when the men were using the pick; but they mostly employed the shovel,
as I supposed. I set my elbows on my knees and rested my chin in my
hands. The air was not cold, nor was the soil damp; it was dry as snuff.
The flicker of my light played over the man of bones, and especially
illumined the skull. It may have been fancy on my part, it probably was
fancy, but it seemed to me as though something sparkled in the
eye-sockets. Drops of water possibly lodged there, or crystals formed
within the skull; but the effect was much as of eyes leering and winking
at me. I lighted my pipe, and to my disgust found that my supply of
matches was running short. In France the manufacture belongs to the
state, and one gets but sixty _allumettes_ for a penny.
I had not brought my watch with me below ground, fearing lest it might
meet with an accident; consequently I was unable to reckon how time
passed. I began counting and ticking off the minutes on my fingers, but
soon tired of doing this.
My candle was getting short; it would not last much longer, and then I
should be in the dark. I consoled myself with the thought that with the
extinction of the light the consumption of the oxygen in the air would
be less rapid. My eyes now rested on the flame of the candle, and I
watched the gradual diminution of the composite. It was one of those
abominable _bougies_ with holes in them to economise the wax, and which
consequently had less than the proper amount of material for feeding and
maintaining a flame. At length the light went out, and I was left in
total darkness. I might have used up the rest of my matches, one after
another, but to what good?--they would prolong the period of
illumination for but a very little while.
A sense of numbness stole over me, but I was not as yet sensible of
deficiency of air to breathe. I found that the stone on which I was
seated was pointed and hard, but I did not like to shift my position for
fear of getting among and disturbing the bones, and I was still desirous
of having them photographed _in situ_ before they were moved.
I was not alarmed at my situation; I knew that I must be released
eventually. But the tedium of sitting there in the dark and on a pointed
stone was becoming intolerable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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