Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. "I am utterly lost. From one window the beach was always visible; from another, the stores. It had been cut down before life was extinct, but a ball from one of the soldiers had pierced his heart. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him.
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