noon
He could see and think of nothing else . He saw it -- the sure death -- everywhere . He saw it so close that he was always on the point of throwing out his arms to keep it off . It poisoned all he saw , all he did ; the miserable food he ate , the muddy water he drank ; it gave a frightful aspect to sunrises and sunsets , to the brightness of hot noon , to the cooling shadows of the evenings . He saw the horrible form among the big trees , in the network of creepers in the fantastic outlines of leaves , of the great indented leaves that seemed to be so many enormous hands with big broad palms , with stiff fingers outspread to lay hold of him ; hands gently stirring , or hands arrested in a frightful immobility , with a stillness attentive and watching for the opportunity to take him , to enlace him , to strangle him , to hold him till he died ; hands that would hold him dead , that would never let go , that would cling to his body for ever till it perished -- disappeared in their frantic and tenacious grasp . And yet the world was full of life . All the things , all the men he knew , existed , moved , breathed ; and he saw them in a long perspective , far off , diminished , distinct , desirable , unattainable , precious ... lost for ever .