Then something in his whole mechanism seemed to stop and something else seemed to start. His body sagged and quivered at the same time. His eyes bulged. His mouth opened in such a way that his teeth glittered. A loud groan rang through the room. Quickly he laid the revolver down and walked back into the living room. He took unsteady steps and held his hands against his forehead. “Oh, Jesus!” he cried. He stood still a long time, pondering. It seemed to him that the silence of the room was lost in another silence. His eye fell on a quart whiskey-bottle standing on a corner of the table. The unusual character of his awakening had made him, thus far, forget all about it. It was nearly a third full of liquor. A little gleam came into his eye, the faintest color into his cheeks. He looked at the bottle with a sort of eagerness and went hopefully toward it. He was thinking of the revolver on the bureau and it seemed to him that some of the whiskey would make that business easier. He picked up the glass and the bottle and poured out a large drink, shuddered and swallowed it, making a face. He had eaten nothing all day and at once the whiskey was racing in his blood. Color flashed into his cheeks. He felt his blood becoming red again. He took another drink and waited for the effect. After a little while he took still another. There was only a little left in the bottle. Now his eyes were brighter and they had a misty look. The pupils were larger. He blinked his eyes and looked about. His face looked almost cheerful. He appeared to be reflecting. Indeed his thoughts raced rapidly but they began to tumble over each other. He hardly understood his thoughts. Vague emotions stirred him. A sort of courage was mounting in his body, warming him like a new-kindled fire. But he felt mournful too. He waited. He was about to have great thoughts. He was about to discover some magnificent solution of everything. He stood still a long time, pondering. A little smile began to tremble on his mouth. He poured out the last of the whiskey and shook the bottle to get the last drop. But now his head was rolling a little and his eyes were vague. He lifted the glass. Just then his uncertain glance fell on his wife’s handkerchief. He looked long at the handkerchief, blinking. His head wobbled a little. He was trying to seize some idea that eluded him. Thoughts rose up in his mind but they fell over one another. His face wore a crippled look. A long while he stood in thought, staring feebly at the handkerchief. But at last a faint, self-satisfied smile appeared on his trembling mouth. Visibly swaying he turned around, his gaze wandering a little; steadied himself a little bit, and began to look uncertainly in the direction of the door. The smile flickered over his face like a blue flame. His mouth moved. His lips picked at words.