ement that he had assumed, and growing more and
more into the likeness of a flea the smaller he grew, till he returned
to the size he appeared when I first saw him, and then vanished
mysteriously. The exciting effects of the opium had worn off, but they
had given place to a feeling of deep depression. My head felt too heavy
for me, and ached terribly; my eyeballs were as if weighed down by lead.
I could not sleep comfortably, and I was too lazy to get up. I loathed
my own existence, and hated everybody and everything around me. Thoughts
of suicide haunted me, and I had a momentary thought of emptying the
whole of the remaining contents of the bottle down my throat, and so put
an end to my misery for ever. But then I bethought me of the Baron; it
might be the means of invoking again the "Phantom Flea."

He might be angry at being recalled, and possibly carry me off, soul and
all. I turned and tossed about restlessly in my bed, and kicked the
bed-clothes on to the floor. The cold grey dawn broke in at my window.
I thought I would get up, so, giving one desperate spring, I found
myself upon my feet. My tongue was parched, and a cold sweat matted my
hair. I felt a prodigious thirst, and emptied a whole water-bottle; then
I proceeded to dress, but I soon found that to shave was an utter
impossibility. My hand shook as with the palsy, so I abandoned the
attempt. Unshaven, unkempt, and negligently dressed, with haggard look
and listless steps, I sauntered about the lonely corridors of the
mansion like a restless spirit, until I heard the footsteps of Mrs.
Wharton about the house. I started at the slightest noise. I was soon
accosted by that worthy, who, of course, wanted to know how I had slept.

"I passed an indifferent night," I replied. "I foolishly took some opium
to make me sleep, and it has given me the headache. By the by,"--I said,
to change the conversation, so as to avoid being questioned, for I saw
the old lady was scanning my countenance--"by the by, where did you say
the Baron was staying? If not too far off, I should like to call upon
him; a walk might do me good."

"About five miles off, sir, in the next village, at the sign of 'The
Swan,'" said the housekeeper; "as straight as ever you can go, sir, you
can't miss it."

"Thank you," said I.

"Poor, poor, gentleman," I heard the housekeeper mutter to herself, as I
started off, "I knew he would suffer."

I set off at a brisk pace; the sun had just risen, a s