There was no furniture in the room, and Max had to lie on the stone floor.

He lay curled together, as the narrowness of the room did not permit him to stretch himself.
His sense of hearing reported to him that until the day of his death he would not leave this room....

Having reported this, his hearing sank into inactivity, for not the slightest sound came from without, except the sounds which Max himself produced, tossing about, or shouting until he was hoarse, until he lost his voice.
Max looked into himself.

In contrast to the outward light which never went out he saw within himself impenetrable, heavy, and motionless darkness.

In that darkness his love and faith were buried.
Max did not know whether time was moving or whether it stood motionless.
The same even, white light poured down on him--the same silence and quiet.