“What’s wrong with me? What have I got? Why am I tired?” he wondered and desperately fingered his face as far as his neck. The whole of his face was pussy, but it didn’t hurt. Only his eyes were sore and tears had started to fall. “I must see, see, I want to know!” he thought. He took the little mirror from his belt, bent down, lit some brushwood, had a look… Within the jumping flames he saw his face and cried out. His whole face was peeling, his eyes had become two small beads, his nose was hidden inside his stretched cheeks and his mouth had become a hole. This was not a human face, it was a freakish mask of skin, inhuman, sickly. As though it was not his own flesh. Strange flesh had been stuck on him, his face had disappeared. “My God, could it be leprosy?” he suddenly thought and collapsed on the floor.

SPINALONGA 

« Qu’est-ce qui m’arrives ? Qu’est-ce que j’ai ? Pourquoi suis-je si fatigué ? » pensait-il en se frottant désespérément  le visage tout entier jusqu’au cou. Tout son visage était enflé, mais il ne ressentait aucune douleur.   Seuls ses yeux le piquaient et des larmes commençaient à couler « Il faut que je voie, que je voie ce qui se passe, je veux savoir ! » disait-il. Il sortit un petit miroir de sa ceinture, se pencha, alluma un rameau de pimprenelle et regarda…  À travers les flammes qui dansaient, il distingua son visage et poussa un cri. Tout son visage était détruit, ses yeux étaient devenus deux minuscules perles, son nez s’était enfoncé dans ses joues enflées et sa bouche était réduite à un trou. Ce n’était plus un visage humain, c’était un masque de chair, inhumain,  qui soulevait le cœur. Comme s’il ne s’agissait plus de sa chair.  Comme si une chair étrangère était venue se plaquer sur son visage ravagé. « Mon Dieu, j’espère que ce n’est pas la lèpre ». L’idée venait de lui passer par la tête et il s’écroula par terre.