ppened. I had walked all night in the snow weary with
hunger. Rita, who had driven me into a moment of fury--I had destroyed
her for the time. A strange destruction during which I pummelled the air
like a veritable madman. But the ruse had served to rid me of the
hallucination for the night. Finally, tired with walking and hunger, I
fell from a bench in the park.

"When I awoke I recalled at once the grotesque struggle of the night.
And with this dumb, weeping creature dogging my steps, I returned home.
She was still with me. I smiled, although I confess there was despair in
my thought. For I had fancied the miserable business of the night had
put an end to the hallucination. No, she was still there. She was
waiting for me on the couch.

"But my mind had not deceived itself. It was as I had thought. I had
planned to rid myself of her by hating this phantom until my hate had
darkened it. Then there would be nothing but an imperceptible shadow of
her remaining, one with which my senses could no longer seduce
themselves.

"And when I came into the room I saw my plot was working. For her eyes
no longer gleamed. A radiance had left her.

"'My hate begins to operate upon this chimera,' I thought. I frowned at
her and sat down, worn out with the walking of the night.

"'I have undermined the infatuation of this phantom,' I thought. I would
have been elate but it occurred to me there was an inconsistency. This
dumb one, this sniveling one, persisted. 'And how should he, who was
dependent upon her death for his existence, persist in her presence?'
This was a question for Mallare, the indifferent one. This was a query
to answer.

"Ah, I will write more about this blubberer, for the answer to him is
piquantly involved. It is like a head with too many hats. But not
now--I will not write about him now. I will only bear him in mind.

"She watched me from the couch and I became aware of something. I
studied her cautiously. Her eyes no longer gleamed with love. There was
a radiance absent.

"'Aha,' I thought, 'she hates. Mallare recovers the strings to his
Frankenstein. His puppet dances again to his will. See, my senses no
longer leap to her. They tremble warily before the hate in her eyes.'

"I watched her as she watched me. And then an incredible thing happened.
She arose from the couch and came slowly toward me and she held a knife
in her hand. She came toward me with the knife at her side.

"'Clever,' I thought. 'In fa