I did not
exactly feel ill; I felt merely weary and languid, and thought that
presently I would go to bed. Gradually I began to observe that the looks
of my companions were bent strangely on me, and that the expression of
their countenances more and more developed surprise and alarm. 'What is
the matter with you all?' I demanded; when they instantly cried, 'What
is the matter with _you?_ Have you been poisoned?' I rose and went and
looked in a mirror; I saw, with ghastly horror, what I was like, and I
knew then that I was _doomed_. I fled from that company for ever. I saw
that, when the alien life on which I flourished was gone out of me, I
was a worn old man--that the Fire of Life which usually burned in my
body, making me look bright and young, was now none of it my own; a few
hot ashes only were mine, which Death sat cowering by! I could not but
sit and gaze at the reflection of the seared ghastliness of that face,
which was mine and yet not mine, and feel well-nigh sick unto death.
After a while, however, I plucked up heart. I considered that it was
impossible this change had come all at once; I must have looked like
that--or almost like that--once or twice or oftener before, and yet life
and reinvigoration had gone on as they had been wont.
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