bility of such a thing:
"Could I by any chance be afraid?"

No, indeed; he could not be afraid, since he was resolved to proceed to
the last extremity, since he was irrevocably determined to fight without
flinching. And yet he was so perturbed in mind and body that he asked
himself:

"Is it possible to be afraid in spite of one's self?"

And this doubt, this fearful question, took possession of him. If an
irresistible power, stronger than his own will, were to quell his
courage, what would happen? He would certainly go to the place appointed;
his will would force him that far. But supposing, when there, he were to
tremble or faint? And he thought of his social standing, his reputation,
his name.

And he suddenly determined to get up and look at himself in the glass. He
lighted his candle. When he saw his face reflected in the mirror he
scarcely recognized it. He seemed to see before him a man whom he did not
know. His eyes looked disproportionately large, and he was very pale.

He remained standing before the mirror. He put out his tongue, as if to
examine the state of his health, and all at once the thought flashed into
his mind:

"At this time the day after to-morrow I may be dead."

And his heart throbbed painfully.

"At this time the day after to-morrow I may be dead. This person in front
of me, this 'I' whom I see in the glass, will perhaps be no more. What!
Here I am, I look at myself, I feel myself to be alive--and yet in
twenty-four hours I may be lying on that bed, with closed eyes, dead,
cold, inanimate."

He turned round, and could see himself distinctly lying on his back on
the couch he had just quitted. He had the hollow face and the limp hands
of death.

Then he became afraid of his bed, and to avoid seeing it went to his
smoking-room. He mechanically took a cigar, lighted it, and began walking
back and forth. He was cold; he took a step toward the bell, to wake his
valet, but stopped with hand raised toward the bell rope.

"He would see that I am afraid!"

And, instead of ringing, he made a fire himself. His hands quivered
nervously as they touched various objects. His head grew dizzy, his
thoughts confused, disjointed, painful; a numbness seized his spirit, as
if he had been drinking.

And all the time he kept on saying:

"What shall I do? What will become of me?"

His whole body trembled spasmodically; he rose, and, going to the window,
drew back the curtains.

The day--a summer da