“It would be a worse trick for myself than for you, monsieur.”

I gave my packet to the servants, and installed myself for the time with the drinkers.  For a long time I had not felt so calm and happy.  After so many doubts and disquietudes, I touched the goal.  The horizon seemed to clear up, and it appeared that some invisible power gave me the hand.  I lighted my pipe, placed my elbow on the table, my wine before me, and listened to the chorus in “Freischuetz,” played by a troupe of gypsies from the Black Forest.  The trumpets, the hue and cry of the chase, the hautboys, plunged me into a vague reverie, and, at times rousing up to look at the hour, I asked myself gravely, if all which had happened to me was not a dream.  But the watchman came to ask us to leave the salle, and soon other and more solemn thoughts were surging in my soul, and in deep meditation I followed little Charlotte, who preceded me with a candle to my room.

We mounted the stairs to the third story.  Charlotte gave me the candle and pointed to the door.

“There,” said she, and descended rapidly.

I opened the door.  The Green Room was like any other inn room.  The ceiling was very low, the bed very high.  With one glance I explored the interior, and then glided to the window.

Nothing was to be seen in the house of Fledermausse; only, in some distant room, an obscure light was burning.  Some one was on the watch.  “That is well,” said I, closing the curtain.  “I have all necessary time.”

I opened my packet, I put on a woman’s bonnet with hanging lace; then, placing myself before a mirror, I took a brush and painted wrinkles in my face.  This took me nearly an hour.  Then I put on the dress and a large shawl, and I was actually afraid of myself.  Fledermausse seemed to me to look at me from the mirror.

At this moment the watchman cried out, “Eleven o’clock!” I seized the manikin which I had brought in my packet, and muffled it in a costume precisely similar to that worn by the old wretch.  I then opened the curtain.

Certainly, after all that I had seen of the Fledermausse, of her infernal cunning, her prudence, her adroitness, she could not in any way surprise me; and yet I was afraid.  The light which I had remarked in the chamber was still immovable, and now cast its yellow rays on the manikin of the peasant of Nassau, which was crouched on the corner of the bed, with the head hanging on the breast, the three-cornered hat pulled down over the face, the arms suspended, and the whole aspect that of absolute despair.

The shadows, managed with diabolical art, allowed nothing to be seen but the general effect of the face.  The red vest, and six round buttons alone, seemed top shine out in the darkness.  But the silence of the night, the complete immobility of the figure, the exhausted, mournful air, were well calculated to take possession of a spectator with a strange power.  For myself, although forewarned, I was chilled even to my bones.