fore him rose a tall form
draped in white, like a winding-sheet. This man was a coward at heart,
and had been all his life afraid of ghosts. But he encouraged himself
now, saying that it was mist from the river, which a breath of wind
would dissipate. Summoning all his courage, he stopped and went toward
this strange form. It was a form and not mist; but its height looked
unnatural as it stood leaning against a tree. Why did not Benedetto turn
aside, either to the right or the left? He could not; something stronger
than his will drew him toward the nameless Thing. Finally Benedetto laid
his hand on the shoulder of the Thing. It turned and lifted its head.
Then an appalling shriek, which was like nothing human, came from
Benedetto's lips. This spectre was that of his mother, whom he had
stabbed in the breast at Beausset so many years before. And the ghost
stood gazing at him with her large eyes, while her gray tresses floated
in the wind.

Benedetto did not seek to understand. He believed that the dead had
risen from the tomb. She looked at him for a full minute. Then she said:

"Come, Benedetto; come, my son."

And the long, skeleton-like hand was laid on the parricide's wrist with
such an icy pressure that Benedetto felt as if a steel ring were being
riveted on his arm.

"Come, my son," said the mad woman; "you will never leave me again, will
you?"

She drew him gently along as he walked. He did not attempt to disengage
himself; he obeyed the summons as if it were from Death.

The phantom--that is to say, Madame Danglars, the poor, insane
creature--had escaped from Fanfar's house by the door which Sanselme
left open, and having found her son thus strangely, lavished on him
tender words, which in the ear of the dastard were like curses. Thus
they reached the shore, and it was not until Benedetto saw the Seine
once more before him that he realized what he was doing. He shook off
the hand on his wrist and began to run. He saw the wreck a foot or two
from the shore, and with one leap he reached it, having little idea of
the danger that awaited him there. The mad woman followed him and tried
to put her arms around him. "You shall never leave me again, Benedetto!"
she murmured.

Sanselme saw and heard it all. It seemed to him that it was some
frightful nightmare. She advancing and Benedetto retreating, the two
reached the other end of the wreck; their feet slipped, there was a dull
sound as they fell, and the water