There's
a cord, you know, that's drawn through the shank of the epaulette
buttons, and after that the two ends of this cord are shoved
through two little holes under the collar, and on the inside--the
lining--are tied together. Well, I go through all this business,
and tie the cord with a slipknot, and, you know, the loop won't
come out, nohow--either it's too loosely tied, or else one end's
too short. I am fussing over this nonsense, and suddenly into my
head comes the most astonishingly simple thought, that it's far
simpler and quicker to tie it in a knot--for after all, it's all
the same, NO ONE IS GOING TO UNTIE IT. And immediately I felt
death with all my being. Until that time I had seen the captain's
eyes, grown glassy, had felt his cold forehead, and still somehow
had not sensed death to the full, but I thought of the knot--and I
was all transpierced, and the simple and sad realization of the
irrevocable, inevitable perishing of all our words, deeds, and
sensations, of the perishing of all the apparent world, seemed to
bow me down to the earth ..
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