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Yakob was looking at the snow which was falling thickly, and tried to penetrate the veil with his eyes. Stronger and faster raged the blizzard. Yakob's stare became vacant under the rumbling of the storm and the driving of the snow; one could not have told whether he was looking with eyes or with lumps of ice. Shadows were flitting across the snowdrifts.
It seemed to issue from unknown depths, summoning sounds never heard before, sights never yet seen, producing a confusion which he had never experienced. He saw it, felt it everywhere; it was itself the cause of a hopeless despair. This despair crept silently into Yakob's fatalistic and submissive soul. He felt it under his hand, as though he were holding another hand.
'The meat is still there in the cottage, and here is what they gave me, he said, holding up the muffler and tobacco. The officer threw his cigarette away and turned on his heel. Yakob's eyes became dull, his arm with the muffler dropped. The officer wrote an order. 'Take him away. They passed the schoolmaster and some women and soldiers in the passage.
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