On both sides of the mouth a fold begins to form over the blood that has curdled and dried; new fillets stream to the lips from within.

The legs still twitch convulsively.
Now a stream of blood gushes from the open mouth; wave after wave rushes up with such swiftness that bubbles and froth form between the lips and remain there.

A chill pervades the whole body; it is the last nervous tremor; the lower jaw hangs down, showing with fearful distinctness the folds, the ghastly folds, of death.
All is still.

Through the tops of the pines comes a humming sound like a chant, a last lay to the brave and dutiful man.

Still, stark, and stiff he lies in his gore.