Again he mapped out his route, again endeavored, and again
failed.
"This is bewildering," he muttered. "How the darkness baffles a man.
For the first time in my life I appreciate to the full the benediction
of God's command, 'Let there be light.'"
He stood perplexed for a few moments, and, deeply thinking, his hands
automatically performed an operation as the servants of habit. They
took from his pocket his cigarette case, selected a tube of tobacco,
placed it between his lips, searched another pocket, brought out a
match-box, and struck a light. The striking of the match startled
Lermontoff as if it had been an explosion; then he laughed, holding
the match above his head, and there at his feet saw the loaf of black
bread. It seemed as if somebody had twisted the room end for end. The
door was where he thought the stream was, and thus he learned that
sound gives no indication of direction to a man blindfolded. The match
began to wane, and feverishly he lit his cigarette.
"Why didn't I think of the matches, and oh! what a pity I failed to
fill my pockets with them that night of the Professor's dinner party!
To think that matches are selling at this moment in Sweden two hundred
and fifty for a halfpenny!"
Guided by the spark at the end of his cigarette, he sought the bench
and sat down upon it. He was surprised to find himself so little
depressed as was actually the case. He did not feel in the least
disheartened.
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