- description
- # II.
## Overview
This entity is a subsection labeled "II." within a larger work. It is part of the chapter titled "[BOOK IX. MORE LIGHT, AND THE GLOOM OF THAT LIGHT. MORE GLOOM, AND THE LIGHT OF THAT GLOOM.](arke:01KG8AJSNW9DK9WB4DQDCR9BS8)" and was extracted from the file "[pierre.txt](arke:01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A)".
## Context
This subsection is situated within the [Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW) collection. It follows subsection "I." and precedes subsection "III.".
## Contents
The text of this subsection describes a character named Pierre sitting in his chamber, surrounded by books and papers. His mind is described as "wandering and vague." He picks up Dante's *Inferno*, reading the lines: "Through me you pass into the city of Woe; / Through me you pass into eternal pain; / Through me, among the people lost for aye. / All hope abandon, ye who enter here." He then picks up Shakespeare's *Hamlet*, reading: "The time is out of joint;--Oh cursed spite, / That ever I was born to set it right!". The text emphasizes Pierre's internal state and his engagement with these literary works.
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- 2026-01-30T20:50:10.015Z
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- description_title
- II.
- end_line
- 7502
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- 2026-01-30T20:48:07.470Z
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- 7467
- text
- II.
In the profoundly silent heart of a house full of sleeping serving-men
and maids, Pierre now sat in his chamber before his accustomed round
table, still tossed with the books and the papers which, three days
before, he had abruptly left, for a sudden and more absorbing object.
Uppermost and most conspicuous among the books were the Inferno of
Dante, and the Hamlet of Shakspeare.
His mind was wandering and vague; his arm wandered and was vague. Soon
he found the open Inferno in his hand, and his eye met the following
lines, allegorically overscribed within the arch of the outgoings of the
womb of human life:
"Through me you pass into the city of Woe;
Through me you pass into eternal pain;
Through me, among the people lost for aye.
* * * * *
All hope abandon, ye who enter here."
He dropped the fatal volume from his hand; he dropped his fated head
upon his chest.
His mind was wandering and vague; his arm wandered and was vague. Some
moments passed, and he found the open Hamlet in his hand, and his eyes
met the following lines:
"The time is out of joint;--Oh cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right!"
He dropped the too true volume from his hand; his petrifying heart
dropped hollowly within him, as a pebble down Carrisbrook well.
- title
- II.