The sound of his own voice startled him, and he looked nervously round the room.  He felt unstrung.  He drank another glass of water, and then began undressing, preparatory to going to bed.

As soon as he was in bed he blew out the light and shut his eyes.

“I have all day to-morrow,” he reflected, “for setting my affairs in order.  I must sleep now, in order to be calm when the time comes.”

He was very warm in bed, but he could not succeed in losing consciousness.  He tossed and turned, remained for five minutes lying on his back, then changed to his left side, then rolled over to his right.  He was thirsty again, and rose to drink.  Then a qualm seized him: 

“Can it be possible that I am afraid?”

Why did his heart beat so uncontrollably at every well-known sound in his room?  When the clock was about to strike, the prefatory grating of its spring made him start, and for several seconds he panted for breath, so unnerved was he.

He began to reason with himself on the possibility of such a thing:  “Could I by any chance be afraid?”

No, indeed; he could not be afraid, since he was resolved to proceed to the last extremity, since he was irrevocably determined to fight without flinching.  And yet he was so perturbed in mind and body that he asked himself: 

“Is it possible to be afraid in spite of one’s self?”

And this doubt, this fearful question, took possession of him.  If an irresistible power, stronger than his own will, were to quell his courage, what would happen?  He would certainly go to the place appointed; his will would force him that far.  But supposing, when there, he were to tremble or faint?  And he thought of his social standing, his reputation, his name.

And he suddenly determined to get up and look at himself in the glass.  He lighted his candle.  When he saw his face reflected in the mirror he scarcely recognized it.  He seemed to see before him a man whom he did not know.  His eyes looked disproportionately large, and he was very pale.

He remained standing before the mirror.  He put out his tongue, as if to examine the state of his health, and all at once the thought flashed into his mind: 

“At this time the day after to-morrow I may be dead.”

And his heart throbbed painfully.

“At this time the day after to-morrow I may be dead.  This person in front of me, this ‘I’ whom I see in the glass, will perhaps be no more.  What!  Here I am, I look at myself, I feel myself to be alive—­and yet in twenty-four hours I may be lying on that bed, with closed eyes, dead, cold, inanimate.”

He turned round, and could see himself distinctly lying on his back on the couch he had just quitted.  He had the hollow face and the limp hands of death.

Then he became afraid of his bed, and to avoid seeing it went to his smoking-room.  He mechanically took a cigar, lighted it, and began walking back and forth.  He was cold; he took a step toward the bell, to wake his valet, but stopped with hand raised toward the bell rope.