They surrendered to it with gasps of dolorous pleasure. At intervals, interrupted by grunts of pain, their voices talked in broken phrases through the angry zeal of the masseurs. Gabriel had at first no wish to listen. But, mingled with the hummings of his torturer, their voices assailed him inescapably. They sounded so individual, so sharply distinguished from one another, that he felt as though he could see them.

 

 

The first, a well-fed bass. No doubt a very self-assured gentleman, to whom it was highly important to know the ins and outs of everything -- if possible, even before the officials concerned. This man of information had secret sources. "The English sent him in a torpedo boat, from Cyprus to the coast. . . . That was near Oshalki. . . . The fellow brought money and arms and was seven days nosing about the village. . . . Of course, the saptiehs didn't know anything. . . . I can even give you the names . . . Köshkerian is the name of the unclean swine."

 

 

The second voice, high and flurried. An elderly, peaceable little gent, who always did his best to be optimistic. The voice seemed somehow not so tall as the other, as though it were looking up at it. Its interjections of pleasurable pain were framed to an august verse of the Koran: "La ilah ila 'llah. .