er uncle as well as I did, and she may
have been thinking that, if he were the obstacle that prevented my
speaking (and there were many ways in which he might be that obstacle),
my position would be such a hard one that it would excuse some wildness
of speech and eccentricity of manner. I saw, too, that the warmth of my
partial explanations had had some effect on her, and I began to believe
that it might be a good thing for me to speak my mind without delay. No
matter how she should receive my proposition, my relations with her
could not be worse than they had been the previous night and day, and
there was something in her face which encouraged me to hope that she
might forget my foolish exclamations of the evening before if I began to
tell her my tale of love.

I drew my chair a little nearer to her, and as I did so the ghost burst
into the room from the doorway behind her. I say burst, although no door
flew open and he made no noise. He was wildly excited, and waved his
arms above his head. The moment I saw him, my heart fell within me. With
the entrance of that impertinent apparition, every hope fled from me. I
could not speak while he was in the room.

I must have turned pale; and I gazed steadfastly at the ghost, almost
without seeing Madeline, who sat between us.

"Do you know," he cried, "that John Hinckman is coming up the hill? He
will be here in fifteen minutes; and if you are doing anything in the
way of love-making, you had better hurry it up. But this is not what I
came to tell you. I have glorious news! At last I am transferred! Not
forty minutes ago a Russian nobleman was murdered by the Nihilists.
Nobody ever thought of him in connection with an immediate ghost-ship.
My friends instantly applied for the situation for me, and obtained my
transfer. I am off before that horrid Hinckman comes up the hill. The
moment I reach my new position, I shall put off this hated semblance.
Good-by. You can't imagine how glad I am to be, at last, the real ghost
of somebody."

"Oh!" I cried, rising to my feet, and stretching out my arms in utter
wretchedness, "I would to Heaven you were mine!"

"I _am_ yours," said Madeline, raising to me her tearful eyes.

THE MUMMY'S FOOT

BY THEOPHILE GAUTIER

Translated for this volume by Sara Goldman.

The Mummy's Foot

By THEOPHILE GAUTIER

I had sauntered idly into the shop of one of those dealers in old
curiosities--"bric-a-brac" as they say in that Par