hen, which was scarcely lighted by the flame of one
candle, and he walked from one end of it to the other with great
strides, listening, listening whether the terrible cry of the other
night would again break the dreary silence outside. He felt himself
alone, unhappy man, as no man had ever been alone before! He was alone
in this immense desert of snow, alone five thousand feet above the
inhabited earth, above human habitations, above that stirring, noisy,
palpitating life, alone under an icy sky! A mad longing impelled him to
run away, no matter where, to get down to Loeche by flinging himself
over the precipice; but he did not even dare to open the door, as he
felt sure that the other, the dead man, would bar his road, so that he
might not be obliged to remain up there alone.

Towards midnight, tired with walking, wornout by grief and fear, he at
last fell into a doze in his chair, for he was as afraid of his bed, as
one is of a haunted spot. But suddenly the strident cry of the other
evening pierced his ears, and it was so shrill that Ulrich stretched
out his arms to repulse the ghost, and he fell onto his back with his
chair.

Sam, who was awakened by the noise, began to howl, like frightened dogs
do howl, and he walked all about the house, trying to find out where the
danger came from; but when he got to the door, he sniffed beneath it,
smelling vigorously, with his coat bristling and his tail stiff, while
he growled angrily. Kunzi, who was terrified, jumped up, and holding his
chair by one leg, he cried: "Don't come in, don't come in, or I shall
kill you." And the dog, excited by this threat, barked angrily at that
invisible enemy who defied his master's voice. By degrees, however, he
quieted down and came back and stretched himself in front of the fire,
but he was uneasy, and kept his head up, and growled between his teeth.

Ulrich, in turn, recovered his senses, but as he felt faint with terror,
he went and got a bottle of brandy out of the sideboard, and he drank
off several glasses, one after another, at a gulp. His ideas became
vague, his courage revived, and a feverish glow ran through his veins.

He ate scarcely anything the next day, and limited himself to alcohol,
and so he lived for several days, like a drunken brute. As soon as he
thought of Gaspard Hari, he began to drink again, and went on drinking
until he fell onto the ground, overcome by intoxication. And there he
remained on his face, dead drun