lour and the passage seemed worse, the creaking of
the stairs sounded louder, and the worn board in
front of his bedroom door squeaked more shrilly.
The only thing was to accustom himself to the fear,
there was nothing else to do for it but to sit still, to
control himself and to think of a way out.
He believed also that he could not live long. In
the mirror he saw how thin his face was, his eyelids
blue, the whites of his eyes greyish and bloodshot.
His lips were not bright like a healthy person's, but
dark. His mother's had been like that too. It
soothed him to look at himself and to think that his
life would last perhaps only a few years. Besides,
why should he wish to live long, to reach sixty years,
working merely for food and clothes, perpetually
tortured by his own wickedness, his fears, behind a
counter here, behind a counter there, with no .other
thought than to be good and one day to be redeemed.
It is true he sometimes thought of the damnation
that was in store for the sinner, but that didn't
frighten him. He shrugged his shoulders in front
of the mirror, thinking : if only it would happen
soon.
Werendonk had often told him that idleness
wasn't a good thing, and asked him what he would
like to do, but he had been unable to give an answer.
One dinner-time when he came to table, his uncle
said that he had found a suitable position for him
in the office of the notary, Wessels, in Great Hout-