ah! never, never, ah! no. I shall never return there!

I took the letter to the commissary of police.

"It is a very dexterous restitution," said he. "Let us bury the hatchet.
We shall, however, nip the man one of these days."

But he has never been nipped. No. They have not nipped him, and I am
afraid of him now, as though he were a ferocious animal that had been let
loose behind me.

Inexplicable! It is inexplicable, this monster of a moon-struck skull!
We shall never get to comprehend it. I shall not return to my former
residence. What does it matter to me? I am afraid of encountering that
man again, and I shall not run the risk.

I shall not risk it! I shall not risk it! I shall not risk it!

And if he returns, if he takes possession of his shop, who is to prove
that my furniture was on his premises? There is only my testimony against
him; and I feel that that is not above suspicion.

Ah! no! This kind of existence was no longer possible. I was not able to
guard the secret of what I had seen. I could not continue to live like
the rest of the world, with the fear upon me that those scenes might be
re-enacted.

I have come to consult the doctor who directs this lunatic asylum, and
I have told him everything.

After he had interrogated me for a long time, he said to me:

"Will you consent, monsieur, to remain here for some time?"

"Most willingly, monsieur."

"You have some means?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Will you have isolated apartments?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Would you care to receive any friends?"

"No, monsieur, no, nobody. The man from Rouen might take it into his head
to pursue me here to be revenged on me."

And I have been alone, alone, all, all alone, for three months. I am
growing tranquil by degrees. I have no longer any fears. If the antiquary
should become mad ... and if he should be brought into this asylum! Even
prisons themselves are not places of security.

SIMON'S PAPA

Noon had just struck. The school-door opened and the youngsters tumbled
out rolling over each other in their haste to get out quickly. But
instead of promptly dispersing and going home to dinner as was their
daily wont, they stopped a few paces off, broke up into knots and set to
whispering.

The fact was that that morning Simon, the son of La Blanchotte, had, for
the first time, attended school.

They had all of them in their families heard talk of La Blanchotte; and,
although in public she was welcome