Sic denique eum vitalis color turbaverat ut mihi prae metu, nocturnas etiam Furias illas imaginanti, frustulum panis quod primum sumpseram, quamvis admodum modicum, mediis faucibus inhaereret ac neque deorsum demeare neque sursum remeare posset.
His deadly complexion had so distorted him that I recalled the picture of those Furies of the night before; my fright made the first bite of bread I had taken stick in the middle of my throat, even though it was not a very large one, and I could not get it to go down or come up.
final_alignments\Apuleius_Metamorphoses_Book1.json