Page 393 - BRAVE NEW WORLD By Aldous Huxley (1894-1963)

Brave New World By Aldous Huxley

death, insulting, with their presence, not merely his

own grief and repentance, but the very gods

themselves. He had sworn to remember, he had

sworn unceasingly to make amends. And there was

he, sitting happily over his bow-stave, singing,

actually singing.

He went indoors, opened the box of

mustard, and put some water to boil on the fire.

Half an hour later, three Delta-Minus

landworkers from one of the Puttenham Bokanovsky

Groups happened to be driving to Elstead and, at

the top of the hill, were astonished to see a young

man standing 0utside the abandoned lighthouse

stripped to the waist and hitting himself with a whip

of knotted cords. His back was horizontally streaked

with crimson, and from weal to weal ran thin

trickles of blood. The driver of the lorry pulled up at

the side of the road and, with his two companions,

stared open-mouthed at the extraordinary spectacle.

One, two three–they counted the strokes. After the

eighth, the young man interrupted his self-

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