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?‰mile, 1840-1902

"Four Short Stories By Emile Zola"

For some time past we fancied
that we could hear a dull sound, and we tried to hope that men were
at work and that help was coming, but it came not thus. One of the
passengers, however, had discovered an air shaft in the tunnel, and,
crowding round, we all saw this shaft, above which we could discern a
blue patch about the size of a wafer. That blue patch filled us with
rapture, for it was the sky. We stretched ourselves and stood on tiptoes
to breathe more freely. Then we distinguished some black specks moving
about, specks that must surely be workmen about to deliver us. A furious
clamor arose. The cry "Saved! Saved!" burst from every mouth, while
trembling arms were uplifted toward the tiny azure patch above.
That roar of voices aroused me. Where was I? In the tunnel, of course. I
was lying at full length; hard walls were pressing against my ribs. Then
I attempted to rise and struck my head roughly. Was it the rock
closing in on all sides? The blue speck had vanished--aye, the sky had
disappeared and I was still suffocating, shivering, with chattering
teeth.
All at once I remembered. Intense horror raised my hair on end. I felt
the hideous truth freeze me from head to foot like ice.


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