remove the stolen volumes to a safe place, and when he had realised the value of his secret, he would go to Paris, to Berlin, even to London, and dispose of his treasures one by one.  He was amazed at the delights the future unfolded to him, everything seemed gilded, everything seemed ready to turn into gold.  His brain dwelt with an enthusiasm wholly new to him upon the dreams it conjured up.  He felt twenty years younger.  His fears had gone, and with them his humility.  He saw himself no longer the poor librarian in his slippers and shabby clothes, cringing to his employer, spending his days in studying the forgeries he afterwards executed during the night, hoarding his ill-gotten gains with jealous secrecy, afraid to show to his few associates that he had accumulated a little wealth, timid by force of long habit and by the remembrance of the shame in his early life.  All that had disappeared under the potent spell of his new-found courage.  He fancied himself living in some distant capital, rich and respected, married, perhaps, having servants of his own, astonishing the learned men of some great centre by the extent of his knowledge and erudition.  All the vanity of his nature was roused from its long sleep by a new set of emotions, till he could scarcely contain his inexplicable happiness.  And how had all this come to him so suddenly in the midst of his obscure life?  Simply by squeezing the breath out of an old man’s throat.  How easy it had been.

The unaccustomed energy which had been awakened in him by the spirits brought with it a pleasant restlessness.  He felt that he must go again to his little room upstairs, and take out the deeds and read them over.  The sight of them would give an increased reality and vividness to his anticipations.  Besides, too, it was just barely possible that there might be some word, some expression which he could change, and which should increase their value.  To sit still, poring over the catalogue in the library was impossible.  Once more he climbed to his attic, but he could not comprehend why he felt a nervous desire to look behind him, as though he were followed by some person whose tread was noiseless.  It was not possible, he thought, that the effects of his draught were already passing off.  Such courage as he felt in him could not leave him suddenly.  He reached his room and took the deeds from the secret place in which he had hidden them, spreading them out lovingly before him.  As he sat down the bottle in his long coat touched the floor behind him with a short, dull thud.  It was as though a footstep had sounded in the silent room, and he sprang to his feet before he realised whence the noise came, looking behind him with startled eyes.  In a moment he understood, and withdrawing the bottle from his pocket he set it beside him on the table.  He looked at it for a few seconds as though in hesitation, but he determined not to have recourse to its contents so soon.  He had undoubtedly been frightened again, but the sound that had scared him had been real and not imaginary.  Besides, he had but this one bottle and he knew that good brandy was dear.  He pushed it away, his avarice helping him to resist the temptation.