he print which it leaves fills with water. The eye,
however, has noticed no change; the immense strand is smooth and
tranquil; all the sand has the same appearance; nothing distinguishes
the surface which is solid from that which is no longer so; the joyous
little cloud of sand fleas continue to leap tumultuously over the
wayfarer's feet. The man pursues his way, goes forward, inclines to
the land, endeavors to get nearer the upland. He is not anxious.
Anxious about what? Only he feels somehow as if the weight of his feet
increases with every step he takes. Suddenly he sinks in.

He sinks in two or three inches. Decidedly he is not on the right
road; he stops to take his bearings. All at once he looks at his feet.
They have disappeared. The sand covers them. He draws them out of the
sand; he will retrace his steps; he turns back; he sinks in deeper.
The sand comes up to his ankles; he pulls himself out and throws
himself to the left; the sand is half-leg deep. He throws himself to
the right; the sand comes up to his shins. Then he recognizes with
unspeakable terror that he is caught in the quicksand, and that he has
beneath him the fearful medium in which man can no more walk than the
fish can swim. He throws off his load if he has one, lightens himself
like a ship in distress; it is already too late; the sand is above his
knees. He calls, he waves his hat or his handkerchief; the sand gains
on him more and more. If the beach is deserted, if the land is too far
off, if there is no help in sight, it is all over.

He is condemned to that appalling burial, long, infallible,
implacable, and impossible to slacken or to hasten, which endures for
hours, which seizes you erect, free, and in full health, and which
draws you by the feet, which at every effort that you make, at every
shout you utter, drags you a little deeper, sinking you slowly into
the earth while you look upon the horizon, the sails of the ships upon
the sea, the birds flying and singing, the sunshine and the sky. The
victim attempts to sit down, to lie down, to creep; every movement he
makes inters him; he straightens up, he sinks in; he feels that he is
being swallowed. He howls, implores, cries to the clouds, despairs.

Behold him waist deep in the sand. The sand reaches his breast; he is
now only a bust. He raises his arm, utters furious groans, clutches
the beach with his nails, would hold by that straw, leans upon his
elbows to pull himself out of this