Here the good woman stopped a moment, indulged in a pinch of snuff, and tried to arrange her thoughts.  I listened with eager attention for what was coming.

“About half-past ten,” she went on, “I was sitting near the bed, and from time to time drew the curtain to see what the count was doing; he made no movement; he was sleeping as quietly as a child.  It was all right until eleven o’clock, then I began to feel tired.  An old woman, sir, cannot help herself—­she must drop off to sleep in spite of everything.  I did not think anything was going to happen, and I said to myself, ’He is sure to sleep till daylight.’  About twelve the wind went down; the big windows had been rattling, but now they were quiet.  I got up to see if anything was stirring outside.  It was all as black as ink; so I came back to my arm-chair.  I took another look at the patient; I saw that he had not stirred an inch, and I took up my knitting; but in a few minutes more I began nodding, nodding, and I dropped right off to sleep.  I could not help it, the arm-chair was so soft and the room was so warm, who could have helped it?  I had been asleep an hour, I suppose, when a sharp current of wind woke me up.  I opened my eyes, and what do you think I saw?  The tall middle window was wide open, the curtains were drawn, and there in the opening stood the count in his white night-dress, right on the window-sill.”

“The count?”

“Yes.”

“Nay, it is impossible; he cannot move!”

“So I thought too; but that is just how I saw him.  He was standing with a torch in his hand; the night was so dark and the air so still that the flame stood up quite straight.”

I gazed upon Marie Anne with astonishment.

“First of all,” she said, after a moment’s silence, “to see that long, thin man standing there with his bare legs, I can assure you it had such an effect upon me!  I wanted to scream; but then I thought, ’Perhaps he is walking in his sleep; if I shout he will wake up, he will jump down, and then—­’ So I did not say a word, but I stared and stared till I saw him lift up his torch in the air over his head, then he lowered it, then up again and down again, and he did this three times, just like a man making signals; then he threw it down upon the ramparts, shut the window, drew the curtains, passed before me without speaking, and got into bed muttering some words I could not make out.”

“Are you sure you saw all that, ma’am?”

“Quite sure.”

“Well, it is strange.”

“I know it is; but it is true.  Ah! it did astonish me at first, and then when I saw him get into bed again and cross his hands over his breast just as if nothing had happened, I said to myself, ’Marie Anne, you have had a bad dream; it cannot be true;’ and so I went to the window, and there I saw the torch still burning; it had fallen into a bush near the third gate, and there it was shining just like a spark of fire.  There was no denying it.”