His blood began to murmur in his veins, murmuring like a sinful city summoned from its sleep to hear its doom. Little flakes of fire fell and powdery ashes fel softly, alighting on the houses of men. They stirred,waking from sleep, troubled by the heated air.
The slide was shot back. The penitent emerged from the side of the box. The farther side was drawn.A woman entered quietly and deftly where the first penitent had knelt. The faint murmur began again.
He could still leave the chapel. He could stand up,put one foot before the other and walk out softly and then run, run, run swiftly through the dark streets. He could still escape from the shame. Had it been any terrible crime but that one sin! Had it been murder!Little fiery flakes fell and touched him at all points,shameful thoughts, shameful words, shameful acts.Shame covered him wholly like fine glowing ashes falling continually. To say it in words! His soul,stifling and helpless, would cease to be.