And this sensation of life returning to him really drove the fear of death away.

Yanson opened his eyes, and then, his mind utterly confused, he slept soundly for the remainder of the night.

He lay on his hack, with mouth open, and snored loudly, and between his lashes, which were not tightly closed, his flat, dead eyes, which were upturned so that the pupil did not show, could be seen.
Later, everything in the world--day and night, footsteps, voices, the soup of sour cabbage, produced in him a continuous terror, plunging him into a state of savage uncomprehending astonishment.

His weak mind was unable to combine these two things which so monstrously contradicted each other--the bright day, the odor and taste of cabbage--and the fact that two days later he must die.

He did not think of anything.