w on the table, my wine
before me, and listened to the chorus in "Freischuetz," played by a
troupe of gypsies from the Black Forest. The trumpets, the hue and cry
of the chase, the hautboys, plunged me into a vague reverie, and, at
times rousing up to look at the hour, I asked myself gravely, if all
which _had_ happened to me was not a dream. But the watchman came to
ask us to leave the _salle_, and soon other and more solemn thoughts
were surging in my soul, and in deep meditation I followed little
Charlotte, who preceded me with a candle to my room.

We mounted the stairs to the third story. Charlotte gave me the candle
and pointed to the door.

"There," said she, and descended rapidly.

I opened the door. The Green Room was like any other inn room. The
ceiling was very low, the bed very high. With one glance I explored the
interior, and then glided to the window.

Nothing was to be seen in the house of Fledermausse; only, in some
distant room, an obscure light was burning. Some one was on the watch.
"That is well," said I, closing the curtain. "I have all necessary
time."

I opened my packet, I put on a woman's bonnet with hanging lace; then,
placing myself before a mirror, I took a brush and painted wrinkles in
my face. This took me nearly an hour. Then I put on the dress and a
large shawl, and I was actually afraid of myself. Fledermausse seemed
to me to look at me from the mirror.

At this moment the watchman cried out, "Eleven o'clock!" I seized the
manikin which I had brought in my packet, and muffled it in a costume
precisely similar to that worn by the old wretch. I then opened the
curtain.

Certainly, after all that I had seen of the Fledermausse, of her
infernal cunning, her prudence, her adroitness, she could not in any
way surprise me; and yet I was afraid. The light which I had remarked
in the chamber was still immovable, and now cast its yellow rays on the
manikin of the peasant of Nassau, which was crouched on the corner of
the bed, with the head hanging on the breast, the three-cornered hat
pulled down over the face, the arms suspended, and the whole aspect
that of absolute despair.

The shadows, managed with diabolical art, allowed nothing to be seen
but the general effect of the face. The red vest, and six round buttons
alone, seemed top shine out in the darkness. But the silence of the
night, the complete immobility of the figure, the exhausted, mournful
air, were well calculated to take