I sat down again and thought over my adventure for a long time; then I went to bed and blew out my light.

For some minutes all went well; I lay quietly on my back, but presently an irresistible desire seized me to look round the room, and I turned over on my side.

My fire was nearly out, and the few glowing embers threw a faint light on the floor by the chair, where I fancied I saw the man sitting again.

I quickly struck a match, but I had been mistaken; there was nothing there.  I got up, however, and hid the chair behind my bed, and tried to get to sleep, as the room was now dark; but I had not forgotten myself for more than five minutes, when in my dream I saw all the scene which I had previously witnessed as clearly as if it were reality.  I woke up with a start, and having lit the candle, sat up in bed, without venturing even to try to go to sleep again.

Twice, however, sleep overcame me for a few moments in spite of myself, and twice I saw the same thing again, till I fancied I was going mad.  When day broke, however, I thought that I was cured, and slept peacefully till noon.

It was all past and over.  I had been feverish, had had the nightmare.  I know not what.  I had been ill, in fact, but yet thought I was a great fool.

I enjoyed myself thoroughly that evening.  I dined at a restaurant and afterward went to the theatre, and then started for home.  But as I got near the house I was once more seized by a strange feeling of uneasiness.  I was afraid of seeing him again.  I was not afraid of him, not afraid of his presence, in which I did not believe; but I was afraid of being deceived again.  I was afraid of some fresh hallucination, afraid lest fear should take possession of me.

For more than an hour I wandered up and down the pavement; then, feeling that I was really too foolish, I returned home.  I breathed so hard that I could hardly get upstairs, and remained standing outside my door for more than ten minutes; then suddenly I had a courageous impulse and my will asserted itself.  I inserted my key into the lock, and went into the apartment with a candle in my hand.  I kicked open my bedroom door, which was partly open, and cast a frightened glance toward the fireplace.  There was nothing there.  A-h!  What a relief and what a delight!  What a deliverance!  I walked up and down briskly and boldly, but I was not altogether reassured, and kept turning round with a jump; the very shadows in the corners disquieted me.

I slept badly, and was constantly disturbed by imaginary noises, but did not see him; no, that was all over.

Since that time I have been afraid of being alone at night.  I feel that the spectre is there, close to me, around me; but it has not appeared to me again.

And supposing it did, what would it matter, since I do not believe in it, and know that it is nothing?

However, it still worries me, because I am constantly thinking of it.  His right arm hanging down and his head inclined to the left like a man who was asleep—­I don’t want to think about it!