2 A.M. moonlight. The train has stopped out in a field. Far off sparks of light from a town, flickering coldly on the horizon.

As when a man goes so deep into his dream he will never remember he was there when he returns again to his view.

Or when a person goes so deep into a sickness that his days all become some flickering sparks, a swarm, feeble and cold on the horizon.

The train is entirely motionless. 2 o'clock: strong moonlight, few stars.