He groped about for his matches, found them, and lit a
candle. A neighbouring clock tolled out the hour of midnight, and
the sound of the bells terrified him beyond measure. Cold,
miserable, in an agony of fear, his nervousness doubled by the
opium and by a need of food of which he was not aware, there was
but one remedy within his reach. The sleeping potion had been
calculated for one occasion only, and it was all gone. He tried to
drain a few drops from the phial, and a drowsy, half-sickening
odour rose from it to his nostrils. But there was nothing left,
nothing but the brandy, and little more than half a bottle of
that. It was enough for his present need, however, and more than
enough. He drank greedily, for he was parched with thirst, though
hardly conscious of the fact. Then he slept till morning. But when
he opened his eyes he was conscious that he was in a worse state
than on the previous day. He was not only nervous but exhausted,
and it was with feeble steps that he made his way to his friend's
shop, in order to procure a double dose of the sleeping mixture.
If he could sleep through the twenty-four hours, he thought, so as
not to wake up in the dead of night, he should be better. When he
made his appearance Tiberio Colaisso knew what he wanted, and
although he had half repented of what he had done, the renewed
possibility of selling the precious drug was a temptation he could
not withstand.
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