of mind; then he sat up and began
to reflect. He had had a hallucination--that was all, a
hallucination due to the fact that a night marauder was walking with a
lantern in his hand near the water's edge. What was there astonishing,
besides, in the circumstance that the recollection of his crime should
sometimes bring before him the vision of the dead girl?

He rose from the ground, swallowed a glass of wine and sat down again. He
was thinking:

"What am I to do if this occurs again?"

And it would occur; he felt it; he was sure of it. Already his glance was
drawn toward the window; it called him; it attracted him. In order to
avoid looking at it, he turned his chair round. Then he took a book and
tried to read, but it seemed to him that he presently heard something
stirring behind him, and he swung round his armchair on one foot.

The curtain was moving again; unquestionably, it moved this time. He
could no longer have any doubt about it.

He rushed forward and grasped it so violently that he pulled it down with
its pole. Then he eagerly glued his face to the glass. He saw nothing.
All was black outside, and he breathed with the joy of a man whose life
has just been saved.

Then he went back to his chair and sat down again, but almost immediately
he felt a longing to look out once more through the window. Since the
curtain had fallen down, the window made a sort of gap, fascinating and
terrible, on the dark landscape. In order not to yield to this dangerous
temptation, he undressed, blew out the light and closed his eyes.

Lying on his back motionless, his skin warm and moist, he awaited sleep.
Suddenly a great gleam of light flashed across his eyelids. He opened
them, believing that his dwelling was on fire. All was black as before,
and he leaned on his elbow to try to distinguish the window which had
still for him an unconquerable attraction. By dint of, straining his eyes
he could perceive some stars, and he rose, groped his way across the
room, discovered the panes with his outstretched hands, and placed his
forehead close to them. There below, under the trees, lay the body of the
little girl gleaming like phosphorus, lighting up the surrounding
darkness.

Renardet uttered a cry and rushed toward his bed, where he lay till
morning, his head hidden under the pillow.

From that moment his life became intolerable. He passed his days in
apprehension of each succeeding night, and each night the vision came
bac