He continued:
“Here is the story. It is simple. Juliette had been subject for some
time to serious attacks of the heart. We believed that she had disease
of that organ, and were prepared for the worst.
“One day she was carried into the house cold, lifeless, dead. She had
fallen down unconscious in the garden. The doctor certified that life
was extinct. I watched by her side for a day and two nights. I laid her
with my own hands in the coffin, which I accompanied to the cemetery,
where she was deposited in the family vault. It is situated in the very
heart of Lorraine.
“I wished to have her interred with her jewels, bracelets, necklaces,
rings, all presents which she had received from me, and wearing her
first ball dress.
“You may easily imagine my state of mind when I re-entered our home.
She was the only one I had, for my wife had been dead for many years. I
found my way to my own apartment in a half-distracted condition, utterly
exhausted, and sank into my easy-chair, without the capacity to think
or the strength to move. I was nothing better now than a suffering,
vibrating machine, a human being who had, as it were, been flayed alive;
my soul was like an open wound.
“My old valet, Prosper, who had assisted me in placing Juliette in her
coffin, and aided me in preparing her for her last sleep, entered the
room noiselessly, and asked:
“'Does monsieur want anything?'
“I merely shook my head in reply.
“'Monsieur is wrong,' he urged. 'He will injure his health. Would
monsieur like me to put him to bed?'
“I answered: 'No, let me alone!'
“And he left the room.
“I know not how many hours slipped away. Oh, what a night, what a night!
It was cold. My fire had died out in the huge grate; and the wind,
the winter wind, an icy wind, a winter hurricane, blew with a regular,
sinister noise against the windows.
“How many hours slipped away? There I was without sleeping, powerless,
crushed, my eyes wide open, my legs stretched out, my body limp,
inanimate, and my mind torpid with despair. Suddenly the great doorbell,
the great bell of the vestibule, rang out.
“I started so that my chair cracked under me. The solemn, ponderous
sound vibrated through the empty country house as through a vault. I
turned round to see what the hour was by the clock. It was just two in
the morning. Who could be coming at such an hour?
“And, abruptly, the bell again rang twice. The servants, without doubt,
were afraid to get up. I took a wax candle and descended the stairs. I
was on the point of asking: 'Who is there?'
“Then I felt ashamed of my weakness, and I slowly drew back the heavy
bolts. My heart was throbbing wildly. I was frightened. I opened the
door brusquely, and in the darkness I distinguished a white figure,
standing erect, something that resembled an apparition.
“I recoiled petrified with horror, faltering:
“'Who-who-who are you?'
“A voice replied:
“'It is I, father.'
“It was my daughter.
“I really thought I must be mad, and I retreated backward before this
advancing spectre. I kept moving away, making a sign with my hand,' as
if to drive the phantom away, that gesture which you have noticed--that
gesture which has remained with me ever since.
“'Do not be afraid, papa,' said the apparition. 'I was not dead.
Somebody tried to steal my rings and cut one of my fingers; the blood
began to flow, and that restored me to life.'
“And, in fact, I could see that her hand was covered with blood.
“I fell on my knees, choking with sobs and with a rattling in my throat.
“Then, when I had somewhat collected my thoughts, though I was still
so bewildered that I scarcely realized the awesome happiness that had
befallen me, I made her go up to my room and sit dawn in my easy-chair;
then I rang excitedly for Prosper to get him to rekindle the fire and to
bring some wine, and to summon assistance.
“The man entered, stared at my daughter, opened his mouth with a gasp of
alarm and stupefaction, and then fell back dead.
“It was he who had opened the vault, who had mutilated and then
abandoned my daughter; for he could not efface the traces of the theft.
He had not even taken the trouble to put back the coffin into its
place, feeling sure, besides, that he would not be suspected by me, as I
trusted him absolutely.
“You see, monsieur, that we are very unfortunate people.”
He was silent.
The night had fallen, casting its shadows over the desolate, mournful
vale, and a sort of mysterious fear possessed me at finding myself by
the side of those strange beings, of this young girl who had come back
from the tomb, and this father with his uncanny spasm.
I found it impossible to make any comment on this dreadful story. I only
murmured:
“What a horrible thing!”
Then, after a minute's silence, I added:
“Let us go indoors. I think it is growing cool.”
And we made our way back to the hotel.