The Prussian Officer

But everything was distorted born of an ache and resolving into an ache.

During the night the lightning fluttered perpetually, making the whole sky white

He felt as in a blackish dream: as if all the other things were there and had form, but he himself was only a consciousness, a gap that could think and perceive.

He wanted to stay in shadow, not to be forced into consciousness.

But he was very tired. He got to bed at last, and slept inert, relaxed, in a sleep that was rather stupor than slumber, a dead night of stupefaction shot through with gleams of anguish