noon
Berselius , leaning on the arm of his companion , looked around him , and then stood looking at the setting sun . The glorious day was very near its end . The sun huge and half-shorn of his beams , was sinking slowly , inevitably ; scarce two diameters divided his lower edge from the horizon that was thirsting for him as the grave thirsts for man . Thus fades , shorn of its dazzle and splendour , the intellect so triumphant at noon , the personality , the compelling will ; the man himself when night has touched him . `` Are you better ? '' asked Adams . Berselius made no reply .