“But after that,” he asked, “when you left the house?”
Jacques passed his hand mechanically over his forehead, as if to gather
his thoughts, and then went on,--
“After that I fled precipitately, like a man who has committed a crime.
The garden-door was open, and I rushed out. I could not tell you with
certainty in what direction I ran, through what streets I passed. I had
but one fixed idea,--to get away from that house as quickly and as far
as possible. I did not know what I was doing. I went, I went. When I
came to myself, I was many miles away from Sauveterre, on the road to
Boiscoran. The instinct of the animal within me had guided me on the
familiar way to my house. At the first moment I could not comprehend how
I had gotten there. I felt like a drunkard whose head is filled with the
vapors of alcohol, and who, when he is roused, tries to remember what
has happened during his intoxication. Alas! I recalled the fearful
reality but too soon. I knew that I ought to go back to prison, that
it was an absolute necessity; and yet I felt at times so weary, so
exhausted, that I was afraid I should not be able to get back. Still I
did reach the prison. Blangin was waiting for me, all anxiety; for it
was nearly two o’clock. He helped me to get up here. I threw myself, all
dressed as I was, on my bed, and I fell fast asleep in an instant. But
my sleep was a miserable sleep, broken by terrible dreams, in which
I saw myself chained to the galleys, or mounting the scaffold with a
priest by my side; and even at this moment I hardly know whether I am
awake or asleep, and whether I am not still suffering under a fearful
nightmare.”