Another urge to vomit doubled over me. Sticky perspiration penetrated under the corset, settled like dew on the roots of the hair, on the forehead, on the palms. I was out of breath. It was impossible to breathe even a breath of air between attacks of throat spasms. I was turned inside out even when there was nothing left inside.

Finally, exhausted, trembling, I crawled back to the wall of the booth and leaned back, hugging myself with my arms. The chill did not recede, teeth chattered, icy sweat froze on the skin with arctic cold. Spots of blood still danced before his eyes, sometimes they darkened, sometimes they were...