Final P.S. by M.T.

by Mark Twain

　　The dawn was come when I laid the Manuscriptaside. The rain had almost ceased, the worldwas gray and sad, the exhausted storm was sighingand sobbing itself to rest. I went to the stranger'sroom, and listened at his door, which was slightly ajar.I could hear his voice, and so I knocked. There wasno answer, but I still heard the voice. I peeped in.The man lay on his back in bed, talking brokenly butwith spirit, and punctuating with his arms, which hethrashed about, restlessly, as sick people do in delirium. I slipped in softly and bent over him. Hismutterings and ejaculations went on. I spoke -- merelya word, to call his attention. His glassy eyes and hisashy face were alight in an instant with pleasure, gratitude, gladness, welcome:"Oh, Sandy, you are come at last -- how I havelonged for you! Sit by me -- do not leave me --never leave me again, Sandy, never again. Where isyour hand? -- give it me, dear, let me hold it -- there-- now all is well, all is peace, and I am happy again --we are happy again, isn't it so, Sandy? You are sodim, so vague, you are but a mist, a cloud, but youare here, and that is blessedness sufficient; and I haveyour hand; don't take it away -- it is for only a littlewhile, I shall not require it long...... Was that thechild?...... Hello-Central!...... she doesn't answer.Asleep, perhaps? Bring her when she wakes, and letme touch her hands, her face, her hair, and tell hergood-bye...... Sandy! Yes, you are there. Ilost myself a moment, and I thought you weregone...... Have I been sick long? It must be so;it seems months to me. And such dreams! suchstrange and awful dreams, Sandy! Dreams that wereas real as reality -- delirium, of course, but so real!Why, I thought the king was dead, I thought youwere in Gaul and couldn't get home, I thought therewas a revolution; in the fantastic frenzy of thesedreams, I thought that Clarence and I and a handful of my cadets fought and exterminated the wholechivalry of England! But even that was not thestrangest. I seemed to be a creature out of a remoteunborn age, centuries hence, and even that was as realas the rest! Yes, I seemed to have flown back out ofthat age into this of ours, and then forward to it again,and was set down, a stranger and forlorn in that strangeEngland, with an abyss of thirteen centuries yawningbetween me and you! between me and my home andmy friends! between me and all that is dear to me, allthat could make life worth the living! It was awful --awfuler than you can ever imagine, Sandy. Ah,watch by me, Sandy -- stay by me every moment --don't let me go out of my mind again; death is nothing, let it come, but not with those dreams, not withthe torture of those hideous dreams -- I cannot endurethat again...... Sandy?......"He lay muttering incoherently some little time; thenfor a time he lay silent, and apparently sinking awaytoward death. Presently his fingers began to pickbusily at the coverlet, and by that sign I knew that hisend was at hand with the first suggestion of thedeath-rattle in his throat he started up slightly, andseemed to listen: then he said:"A bugle?...... It is the king! The drawbridge,there! Man the battlements! -- turn out the --"He was getting up his last "effect"; but he neverfinished it.