Eight bits lengthwise--and the soft wet stuff between--four bits across; then a pang shot through me, and I drew my hand away quickly, as I considered--WHOSE coffin was this?
My father's?
Or was I thus plucking, like a man in delirium, at the fragments of velvet on that cumbrous oaken casket wherein lay the sacred ashes of my mother's perished beauty?
I roused myself from the apathy into which I had fallen.

All the pains I had taken to find my way through the vault were wasted; I was lost in the profound gloom, and knew not where to turn.

The horror of my situation presented itself to me with redoubled force.

I began to be tormented with thirst.

I fell on my knees and groaned aloud.
"God of infinite mercy!" I cried.