The only light for us was the heavy dawn of evening when they dragged us from sleep.

Eternal night covered the earth.
After the labor, as soon as daybreak began to replace night with melancholy, we buried ourselves methodically in the depth of the caverns there.

Only a deadened murmur penetrated to them, but the rock moved by reason of the earthquakes.

When some one lighted his pipe, by that gleam we looked at each other.

We were fully equipped; we could start away at any minute; it was forbidden to take off the heavy jingling chain of cartridges around us.
I heard some one say, "In _my_ country there are fields, and paths, and the sea; nowhere else in the world is there that." Among these shades of the cave--an abode of the first men as it seemed--I saw the hand start forth of him who existed on the spectacle of the fields and the sea, who was trying to show it and to seize it; or I saw around a vague halo four card-players stubbornly bent upon finding again something of an ancient and peaceful attachment in the faces of the cards; or I saw Margat flourish a Socialist paper that had fallen from Termite's pocket, and burst into laughter at the censored blanks it contained.