ly, and will be incensed at
mine."

Thus did doubt, the greatest misery of love, begin to torture his unhappy
heart; he felt his hot blood rush to his head and oppress it. Ever and
anon he fell forward upon the neck of his horse, and a half sleep weighed
down his eyes; the dark firs that bordered the road seemed to him
gigantic corpses travelling beside him. He saw, or thought he saw, the
same woman clothed in black, whom he had pointed out to Grandchamp,
approach so near as to touch his horse's mane, pull his cloak, and then
run off with a jeering laugh; the sand of the road seemed to him a river
running beneath him, with opposing current, back toward its source. This
strange sight dazzled his worn eyes; he closed them and fell asleep on
his horse.

Presently, he felt himself stopped, but he was numbed with cold and could
not move. He saw peasants, lights, a house, a great room into which they
carried him, a wide bed, whose heavy curtains were closed by Grandchamp;
and he fell asleep again, stunned by the fever that whirred in his ears.

Dreams that followed one another more rapidly than grains of sand before
the wind rushed through his brain; he could not catch them, and moved
restlessly on his bed. Urbain Grandier on the rack, his mother in tears,
his tutor armed, Bassompierre loaded with chains, passed before him,
making signs of farewell; at last, as he slept, he instinctively put his
hand to his head to stay the passing dream, which then seemed to unfold
itself before his eyes like pictures in shifting sands.

He saw a public square crowded with a foreign people, a northern people,
who uttered cries of joy, but they were savage cries; there was a line of
guards, ferocious soldiers--these were Frenchmen. "Come with me," said
the soft voice of Marie de Gonzaga, who took his hand. "See, I wear a
diadem; here is thy throne, come with me." And she hurried him on, the
people still shouting. He went on, a long way. "Why are you sad, if you
are a queen?" he said, trembling. But she was pale, and smiled and spoke
not. She ascended, step after step, up to a throne, and seated herself.
"Mount!" said she, forcibly pulling his hand. But, at every movement, the
massive stairs crumbled beneath his feet, so that he could not ascend.
"Give thanks to love," she continued; and her hand, now more powerful,
raised him to the throne. The people still shouted. He bowed low to kiss
that helping hand, that adored hand; it was the hand