Книга · I Promessi Sposi
Страница 963 из 1118
Автор: Alessandro Manzoni
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But the bed-clothes weighed upon him like a mountain; throwing
them off, he endeavoured to compose himself to sleep; hardly had
he closed his eyes when he awoke with a start, as if he had been
roused by a blow, and he felt that the pain and fever had
increased. He endeavoured to find the cause of his sufferings in
the heat of the weather, the wine, and the debauch in which he
had just been engaged; but one idea involuntarily mingled itself
with all his reflections, an idea at which he had been laughing
all the evening with his companions, as it was easier to make it
a subject of raillery than to drive it away,-the idea of the
plague.
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