To see him going out was like seeing the fall of a great mountain.
He stretched himself, gasping, and in the growing light I could see how broken he was.

His cheeks were falling in, and his sombre eyes had shrunk back in their sockets.

He seemed an old worn man standing there among the ashes, while the blood, which he made no effort to staunch, trickled down his side till it dripped on the floor.

He had ceased to be the Kaffir king, or the Christian minister, or indeed any one of his former parts.

Death was stripping him to his elements, and the man Laputa stood out beyond and above the characters he had played, something strange, and great, and moving, and terrible.
'We met for the first time three days ago,' he said, 'and now you will be the last to see the Inkulu.' 'Umvelos' was not our first meeting,' said I.