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112 | 'Master,' I began, 'those that I see | ||||||
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113 | moving toward us do not look like people-- | ||||||
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114 | whatever they may be, I cannot make them out.' | ||||||
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115 | And he answered: 'The grave nature | ||||||
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116 | of their torment contorts their bodies to a crouch, | ||||||
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117 | so that at first my eyes were undecided. | ||||||
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118 | 'But look closer, disentangle | ||||||
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119 | the figures bent beneath them from the stones. | ||||||
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120 | Then you can see how each one beats his breast.' | ||||||
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