I walked up and down a little, and hummed a tune or two. Then I
double-locked my 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 put out my light.
For some minutes all went well; I lay quietly on my back. Then an
irresistible desire seized me to look round the room, and I turned on to
my side.
My fire was nearly out and the few glowing embers threw a faint light
on to the floor by the chair, where I fancied I saw the man sitting
again.
I quickly struck a match, but I had been mistaken, for 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 been asleep for more
than five minutes when in my dream I saw all the scene which I had
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 and 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 gone. I had been feverish, had had nightmare; or
something. I had been ill, in a word, but yet I thought that I was a great
fool.
I enjoyed myself thoroughly that evening; I went and dined at a
restaurant; afterward I went to the theatre, and then started home. But
as I got near the house I was seized by a strange feeling of uneasiness
once more; 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 I
thought that I was really too foolish, and returned home. I panted so that
I could scarcely get upstairs, and remained standing on the landing
outside my door for more than ten minutes; then suddenly I took courage
and pulled myself together. I inserted my key into the lock, and went in
with a candle in my hand. I kicked open my half-open bedroom door, and
gave a frightened look 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 I
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?
It still worries me, however, 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--Enough of that, in Heaven's name! 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 so it is. Who and what is HE? I
know that he does not exist except in my cowardly imagination, in my
fears, and in my anguish! There--enough of that!
Yes, it is all very well for me to reason with myself, to brace myself
up; I cannot remain alone 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 wardrobe, under the bed, in every dark corner. If I open the door
or the wardrobe, if I take the candle to look under the bed and throw a
fight 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 he is, none the less, 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!