What she had just learned seemed to her frightful.  But, at least, as she would not let herself be hypnotized she had nothing to fear; and remembering what she had read, she promised herself that she would never let him place her in a position where he could put her to sleep.  It was during the sleep that the will of the hypnotizer controlled that of the subject, not before.

Resting on this belief, and also on his not having again spoken of sending her to sleep, she was reassured.  Was not this a sign that he accepted her opposition and renounced his idea of provoked somnambulism?

But she deceived herself.

One night when she had gone to bed at her usual hour while he remained at his work, she awoke suddenly and saw him standing near her, looking at her with eyes whose fixed stare frightened her.

“What is the matter?  What do you want?”

“Nothing, I want nothing; I am going to bed.”

In spite of the strangeness of his glance she did not persist; questions would have taught her nothing.  And besides, now that he no longer went to bed at the same time as she did, there was nothing extraordinary in his attitude.

But a few days from that she woke again in the night with a feeling of distress, and saw him leaning over her as if he would envelop her in his arms.

This time, frightened as she was, she had the strength to say nothing, but her anguish was the more intense.  Did he then wish to hypnotize her while she slept?  Was it possible?  Then the dictionary had deceived her?

In truth it was while she slept that Saniel tried to transform her natural into an artificial sleep.  Would he succeed?  He knew nothing about it, for the experience was new.  But he risked it.

The first time, instead of putting her into a state of somnambulism, he awoke her; the second, he succeeded no better; the third, when he saw that after a certain time she did not open her eyes, he supposed that she was asleep.  To assure himself, he raised her arm, which remained in the air until he placed it on the bed.  Then taking her two hands, he turned them backward, and withdrawing his own, the impulsion which he gave lasted until he checked it.  Her face had an expression of calmness and tranquillity that it had not had for a long time; she was the pretty Phillis of other days, with the sprightly glance.

“To-morrow I will make you sleep at the same time,” he said, “and you will talk.”

The next night he put her to sleep even more easily, but when he questioned her she resisted.

“No,” she said, “I will not speak; it is horrible.  I will not, I cannot.”

He insisted, but she would not.

“Very well, so be it,” he said; “not to-day, to-morrow.  But to-morrow I wish you to speak, and you shall not resist me; I will it!”

If he did not insist it was not only because he knew that habit was necessary to make her submit to his will without being able to defend herself, but because he was ignorant whether, when she awoke, she had any memory of what happened in her sleep, which was an important point.