e still remembered his
original fancy, bizarre though it was, that she would spring upon him
the moment his back was turned and land with one single crushing leap
upon his neck. Of course it was nonsense, but then it haunted him, and
once an idea begins to do that it ceases to be nonsense. It has clothed
itself in reality.

He went upstairs accordingly. It was dusk, and the oil lamps had not
yet been lit in the passages. He stumbled over the uneven surface of
the ancient flooring, passing the dim outlines of doors along the
corridor--doors that he had never once seen opened--rooms that seemed
never occupied. He moved, as his habit now was, stealthily and on
tiptoe.

Half-way down the last passage to his own chamber there was a sharp
turn, and it was just here, while groping round the walls with
outstretched hands, that his fingers touched something that was not
wall--something that moved. It was soft and warm in texture,
indescribably fragrant, and about the height of his shoulder; and he
immediately thought of a furry, sweet-smelling kitten. The next minute
he knew it was something quite different.

Instead of investigating, however,--his nerves must have been too
overwrought for that, he said,--he shrank back as closely as possible
against the wall on the other side. The thing, whatever it was, slipped
past him with a sound of rustling and, retreating with light footsteps
down the passage behind him, was gone. A breath of warm, scented air was
wafted to his nostrils.

Vezin caught his breath for an instant and paused, stockstill, half
leaning against the wall--and then almost ran down the remaining
distance and entered his room with a rush, locking the door hurriedly
behind him. Yet it was not fear that made him run: it was excitement,
pleasurable excitement. His nerves were tingling, and a delicious glow
made itself felt all over his body. In a flash it came to him that this
was just what he had felt twenty-five years ago as a boy when he was in
love for the first time. Warm currents of life ran all over him and
mounted to his brain in a whirl of soft delight. His mood was suddenly
become tender, melting, loving.

The room was quite dark, and he collapsed upon the sofa by the window,
wondering what had happened to him and what it all meant. But the only
thing he understood clearly in that instant was that something in him
had swiftly, magically changed: he no longer wished to leave, or to
argue with himself ab