ight, when suddenly I saw a figure
rise up in front of me, so distinct, so recognisable, so different in
its vivid reality from the chimeras that had just besieged me, that I
fell back in my chair, all bathed in a cold sweat. Standing by the
bed was John Mauprat. He had just got out, for he was holding the
half-opened curtain in his hand. He seemed to me the same as formerly,
only he was still thinner, and paler and more hideous. His head was
shaved, and his body wrapped in a dark winding-sheet. He gave me a
hellish glance; a smile full of hate and contempt played on his thin,
shrivelled lips. He stood motionless with his gleaming eyes fixed on me,
and seemed as if about to speak. In that instant I was convinced that
what I was looking on was a living being, a man of flesh and blood; it
seems incredible, therefore, that I should have felt paralyzed by such
childish fear. But it would be idle for me to deny it, nor have I ever
yet been able to find an explanation; I was riveted to the ground with
fear. The man's glance petrified me; I could not utter a sound. Blaireau
rushed at him; then he waved the folds of his funeral garment, like a
shroud all foul with the dampness of the tomb, and I fainted.

When I recovered consciousness Marcasse was by my side, anxiously
endeavouring to lift me. I was lying on the ground rigid as a corpse. It
was with a great difficulty that I collected my thoughts; but, as soon
as I could stand upright, I seized Marcasse and hurriedly dragged him
out of the accursed room. I had several narrow escapes of falling as
I hastened down the winding stairs, and it was only on breathing the
evening air in the courtyard, and smelling the healthy odour of the
stables, that I recovered the use of my reason.

I did not hesitate to look upon what had just happened as an
hallucination. I had given proof of my courage in war in the presence of
my worthy sergeant; I did not blush, therefore, to confess the truth
to him. I answered his questions frankly, and I described my horrible
vision with such minute details that he, too, was impressed with the
reality of it, and, as he walked about with me in the courtyard, kept
repeating with a thoughtful air:

"Singular, singular! Astonishing!"

"No, it is not astonishing," I said, when I felt that I had quite
recovered. "I experienced a most painful sensation on my way here;
for several days I had struggled to overcome my aversion to seeing
Roche-Mauprat again. Last