The countryman who was walking beside me shook his head and in the dusky immensity among the world of things we were leaving, with big regular steps, fused into one single step, he scattered wondering words.

"Frenzy, it is," he murmured.

"_I_ haven't had time to understand it yet.

And yet, you know, there are some that say, I understand; well, I'm telling you, that's not possible." The station--but we do not stop.

They have opened before us the long yellow barrier which is never opened.