And it would occur; he felt it; he was sure of it.  Already his glance was drawn toward the window; it called him; it attracted him.  In order to avoid looking at it, he turned his chair round.  Then he took a book and tried to read, but it seemed to him that he presently heard something stirring behind him, and he swung round his armchair on one foot.

The curtain was moving again; unquestionably, it moved this time.  He could no longer have any doubt about it.

He rushed forward and grasped it so violently that he pulled it down with its pole.  Then he eagerly glued his face to the glass.  He saw nothing.  All was black outside, and he breathed with the joy of a man whose life has just been saved.

Then he went back to his chair and sat down again, but almost immediately he felt a longing to look out once more through the window.  Since the curtain had fallen down, the window made a sort of gap, fascinating and terrible, on the dark landscape.  In order not to yield to this dangerous temptation, he undressed, blew out the light and closed his eyes.

Lying on his back motionless, his skin warm and moist, he awaited sleep.  Suddenly a great gleam of light flashed across his eyelids.  He opened them, believing that his dwelling was on fire.  All was black as before, and he leaned on his elbow to try to distinguish the window which had still for him an unconquerable attraction.  By dint of, straining his eyes he could perceive some stars, and he rose, groped his way across the room, discovered the panes with his outstretched hands, and placed his forehead close to them.  There below, under the trees, lay the body of the little girl gleaming like phosphorus, lighting up the surrounding darkness.

Renardet uttered a cry and rushed toward his bed, where he lay till morning, his head hidden under the pillow.

From that moment his life became intolerable.  He passed his days in apprehension of each succeeding night, and each night the vision came back again.  As soon as he had locked himself up in his room he strove to resist it, but in vain.  An irresistible force lifted him up and pushed him against the window, as if to call the phantom, and he saw it at once, lying first in the spot where the crime was committed in the position in which it had been found.

Then the dead girl rose up and came toward him with little steps just as the child had done when she came out of the river.  She advanced quietly, passing straight across the grass and over the bed of withered flowers.  Then she rose up in the air toward Renardet’s window.  She came toward him as she had come on the day of the crime.  And the man recoiled before the apparition—­he retreated to his bed and sank down upon it, knowing well that the little one had entered the room and that she now was standing behind the curtain, which presently moved.  And until daybreak he kept staring at this curtain with a fixed glance, ever waiting to see his victim depart.