"It is a very clever restitution," said he. "Let us bury the hatchet.
We shall nip the man one of these days."
* * * * *
But he has never been nipped. No. They have not nipped him, and I am
afraid of him now, as of some ferocious animal that has been let loose
behind me.
Inexplicable! It is inexplicable, this chimera of a moon-struck skull!
We shall never solve or comprehend it. I shall not return to my former
residence. What does it matter to me? I am afraid of encountering that
man again, and I shall not run the risk.
And even if he returns, if he takes possession of his shop, who is to
prove that my furniture was on his premises? There is only my testimony
against him; and I feel that that is not above suspicion.
Ah! no! This kind of existence has become unendurable. I have not been
able to guard the secret of what I have seen. I could not continue to
live like the rest of the world, with the fear upon me that those
scenes might be re-enacted.
So I have come to consult the doctor who directs this lunatic asylum,
and I have told him everything.
After questioning me for a long time, he said to me:
"Will you consent, Monsieur, to remain here for some time?"
"Most willingly, Monsieur."
"You have some means?"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"Will you have isolated apartments?"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"Would you care to receive any friends?"
"No, Monsieur, no, nobody. The man from Rouen might take it into his
head to pursue me here, to be revenged on me."
* * * * *
I have been alone, alone, all, all alone, for three months. I am
growing tranquil by degrees. I have no longer any fears. If the
antiquary should become mad ... and if he should be brought into this
asylum! Even prisons themselves are not places of security.