one of the wax candles which burned on the bedside stand, and
I left the second behind. Then we went and sat down at the other end
of the adjoining apartment, so as to be able to see from where we were
the bed and the corpse, clearly revealed by the light.

"But he still held possession of us. One would have said that his
immaterial essence, liberated, free, all-powerful and dominating, was
flitting around us. And sometimes, too, the dreadful smell of the
decomposed body came towards us and penetrated us, sickening and
indefinable.

"Suddenly a shiver passed through our bones: a sound, a slight sound,
came from the death-chamber. Immediately we fixed our glances on him,
and we saw, yes, monsieur, we saw distinctly, both of us, something
white flying over the bed, falling on the carpet, and vanishing under
an armchair.

"We were on our feet before we had time to think of anything,
distracted by stupefying terror, ready to run away. Then we stared at
each other. We were horribly pale. Our hearts throbbed so fiercely
that our clothes swelled over our chests. I was the first to speak.

"'You saw?'

"'Yes, I saw.'

"'Can it be that he is not dead?'

"'Why not, when the body is putrefying?'

"'What are we to do?'

"My companion said in a hesitating tone:

"'We must go and look.'

"I took our wax candle and I entered first, searching with my eye
through all the large apartment with its dark corners. There was not
the least movement now, and I approached the bed. But I stood
transfixed with stupor and fright: Schopenhauer was no longer
laughing! He was grinning in a horrible fashion, with his lips pressed
together and deep hollows in his cheeks. I stammered out:

"'He is not dead!'

"But the terrible odor rose up to my nose and stifled me. And I no
longer moved, but kept staring fixedly at him, scared as if in the
presence of the apparition.

"Then my companion, having seized the other wax candle, bent forward.
Then, he touched my arm without uttering a word. I followed his
glance, and I saw on the ground, under the armchair by the side of the
bed, all white on the dark carpet, open as if to bite, Schopenhauer's
set of artificial teeth.

"The work of decomposition, loosening the jaws, had made it jump out
of his mouth.

"I was really frightened that day, monsieur."

And as the sun was sinking towards the glittering sea, the consumptive
German rose from his seat, gave me a parting bow, and retired into th