I walked up and down a little, and hummed a tune or two. Then I
double-locked the door and felt rather reassured; now, at any rate,
nobody could come in.
I sat down again and thought over my adventure for a long time; then I
went to bed and blew out my light.
For some minutes all went well; I lay quietly on my back, but presently
an irresistible desire seized me to look round the room, and I turned
over on my side.
My fire was nearly out, and the few glowing embers threw a faint light
on the floor by the chair, where I fancied I saw the man sitting again.
I quickly struck a match, but I had been mistaken; there was nothing
there. I got up, however, and hid the chair behind my bed, and tried to
get to sleep, as the room was now dark; but I had not forgotten myself
for more than five minutes, when in my dream I saw all the scene which
I had previously witnessed as clearly as if it were reality. I woke
up with a start, and having lit the candle, sat up in bed, without
venturing even to try to go to sleep again.
Twice, however, sleep overcame me for a few moments in spite of myself,
and twice I saw the same thing again, till I fancied I was going
mad. When day broke, however, I thought that I was cured, and slept
peacefully till noon.
It was all past and over. I had been feverish, had had the nightmare.
I know not what. I had been ill, in fact, but yet thought I was a great
fool.
I enjoyed myself thoroughly that evening. I dined at a restaurant and
afterward went to the theatre, and then started for home. But as I
got near the house I was once more seized by a strange feeling of
uneasiness. I was afraid of seeing him again. I was not afraid of him,
not afraid of his presence, in which I did not believe; but I was afraid
of being deceived again. I was afraid of some fresh hallucination,
afraid lest fear should take possession of me.
For more than an hour I wandered up and down the pavement; then, feeling
that I was really too foolish, I returned home. I breathed so hard that
I could hardly get upstairs, and remained standing outside my door for
more than ten minutes; then suddenly I had a courageous impulse and my
will asserted itself. I inserted my key into the lock, and went into the
apartment with a candle in my hand. I kicked open my bedroom door, which
was partly open, and cast a frightened glance toward the fireplace.
There was nothing there. A-h! What a relief and what a delight! What
a deliverance! I walked up and down briskly and boldly, but I was not
altogether reassured, and kept turning round with a jump; the very
shadows in the corners disquieted me.
I slept badly, and was constantly disturbed by imaginary noises, but did
not see him; no, that was all over.
Since that time I have been afraid of being alone at night. I feel that
the spectre is there, close to me, around me; but it has not appeared to
me again.
And supposing it did, what would it matter, since I do not believe in
it, and know that it is nothing?
However, it still worries me, because I am constantly thinking of it.
His right arm hanging down and his head inclined to the left like a man
who was asleep--I don't want to think about it!
Why, however, am I so persistently possessed with this idea? His feet
were close to the fire!
He haunts me; it is very stupid, but who and what is he? I know that he
does not exist except in my cowardly imagination, in my fears, and in my
agony. There--enough of that!
Yes, it is all very well for me to reason with myself, to stiffen my
backbone, so to say; but I cannot remain at home because I know he is
there. I know I shall not see him again; he will not show himself again;
that is all over. But he is there, all the same, in my thoughts. He
remains invisible, but that does not prevent his being there. He is
behind the doors, in the closed cupboard, in the wardrobe, under the
bed, in every dark corner. If I open the door or the cupboard, if I take
the candle to look under the bed and throw a light on the dark places
he is there no longer, but I feel that he is behind me. I turn round,
certain that I shall not see him, that I shall never see him again; but
for all that, he is behind me.
It is very stupid, it is dreadful; but what am I to do? I cannot help
it.
But if there were two of us in the place I feel certain that he would
not be there any longer, for he is there just because I am alone, simply
and solely because I am alone!