We left M. Valdemar entirely undisturbed until about three o’clock in the morning, when I approached him and found him in precisely the same condition as when Dr. F —­ went away —­ that is to say, he lay in the same position; the pulse was imperceptible; the breathing was gentle (scarcely noticeable, unless through the application of a mirror to the lips); the eyes were closed naturally; and the limbs were as rigid and as cold as marble.  Still, the general appearance was certainly not that of death.

As I approached M. Valdemar I made a kind of half effort to influence his right arm into pursuit of my own, as I passed the latter gently to and fro above his person.  In such experiments with this patient had never perfectly succeeded before, and assuredly I had little thought of succeeding now; but to my astonishment, his arm very readily, although feebly, followed every direction I assigned it with mine.  I determined to hazard a few words of conversation.

“M.  Valdemar,” I said, “are you asleep?” He made no answer, but I perceived a tremor about the lips, and was thus induced to repeat the question, again and again.  At its third repetition, his whole frame was agitated by a very slight shivering; the eyelids unclosed themselves so far as to display a white line of the ball; the lips moved sluggishly, and from between them, in a barely audible whisper, issued the words: 

“Yes; —­ asleep now.  Do not wake me! —­ let me die so!”

I here felt the limbs and found them as rigid as ever.  The right arm, as before, obeyed the direction of my hand.  I questioned the sleep-waker again: 

“Do you still feel pain in the breast, M. Valdemar?”

The answer now was immediate, but even less audible than before:  “No pain —­ I am dying.”

I did not think it advisable to disturb him farther just then, and nothing more was said or done until the arrival of Dr. F —­ , who came a little before sunrise, and expressed unbounded astonishment at finding the patient still alive.  After feeling the pulse and applying a mirror to the lips, he requested me to speak to the sleep-waker again.  I did so, saying: 

“M.  Valdemar, do you still sleep?”

As before, some minutes elapsed ere a reply was made; and during the interval the dying man seemed to be collecting his energies to speak.  At my fourth repetition of the question, he said very faintly, almost inaudibly: 

“Yes; still asleep —­ dying.”

It was now the opinion, or rather the wish, of the physicians, that M. Valdemar should be suffered to remain undisturbed in his present apparently tranquil condition, until death should supervene —­ and this, it was generally agreed, must now take place within a few minutes.  I concluded, however, to speak to him once more, and merely repeated my previous question.