The sickness had come like a whirlwind: when it passed, what would beleft? The fight went on in the quiet hills--a man of no great statureor strength, against a monster who racked him in a fierce embrace. Athousand scenes flashed through Valmond's brain, before his eyes, whilethe great wheel of torture went round, and he was broken, broken-mendedand broken again, upon it. Spinning--he was for ever spinning, like atireless moth through a fiery air; and the world went roaring past. Invain he cried to the wheelman to stop the wheel: there was no answer.Would those stars never cease blinking in and out, or the wind stopwhipping the swift clouds past? So he went on, endless years, drivingthrough space, some terrible intangible weight dragging at his heart, andall his body panting as it spun.