I
Extending his hands from his bed, Plume was astonished not to feel the wall: “Well, he concluded, the ants must have eaten it away. . .” And he went back to sleep.
Shortly thereafter, his wife shook him awake: “Take a good look, lazybones! While you were so busy sleeping, someone went and stole our house!” And indeed, stretching out on every side there was nothing but solid sky. “So it goes,” he thought.
Shortly thereafter, he was roused by a noise. It was a train bearing down on them at full speed. “Given the rush it’s in, it’s sure to arrive before we do.” And he went back to sleep.
Then he was awakened by the cold. He was drenched with blood. Bits and pieces of his wife lay about him. “Blood is always such a damned nuisance; I’d have been glad if this train had avoided us altogether. But so it goes . . .” And he went back to sleep.
— Well now, said the judge. How to explain the fact that your wife’s injuries were so extensive that she was discovered in eight separate pieces. And that you weren’t able, you who were nonetheless by her side, to make the slightest effort to keep this event from occurring—and in fact without your even having noticed? That’s the rub. The whole case turns on this.
— The way things are going, Plume thought, I can be of no help to her. And he went back to sleep.
— The execution will take place tomorrow. You, who stand accused, have you anything further to add?
— I beg your forgiveness, he said. I haven’t been keeping up with the case. And he went back to sleep.