"This is not _I_!" Again he said it and again as if his frenzied words could work a miracle and make him as he was before.

Then when the sickening sense of his calamity swept over him like a flood in all its fulness, he cast himself upon the earth and prayed to die.

Despair had seized him.

But Death comes not at such a call; kind Death, who waits that one may have a chance to rise again and grapple with the foe that downed him, and conquering, wipe the stigma coward from his soul.
So with Aldebaran.

At first it seemed that he could not endure to face the round of useless days now stretching out before him.