laugh. Who prevented me? What haunting
fear compressed my throat?

At least, I would blow out the candle. No, I could not do it. "Do not
move, or you are doomed," were the words he had written.

These auto-suggestions are frequently more imperious than the most
positive realities; but why should I struggle against them? I had simply
to close my eyes. I did so.

At that moment, I heard a slight noise, followed by crackling sounds,
proceeding from a large room used by me as a library. A small room or
antechamber was situated between the library and my bedchamber.

The approach of an actual danger greatly excited me, and I felt a desire
to get up, seize my revolver, and rush into the library. I did not rise;
I saw one of the curtains of the left window move. There was no doubt
about it: the curtain had moved. It was still moving. And I saw--oh! I
saw quite distinctly--in the narrow space between the curtains and the
window, a human form; a bulky mass that prevented the curtains from
hanging straight. And it is equally certain that the man saw me through
the large meshes of the curtain. Then, I understood the situation.
His mission was to guard me while the others carried away their booty.
Should I rise and seize my revolver? Impossible! He was there! At the
least movement, at the least cry, I was doomed.

Then came a terrific noise that shook the house; this was followed
by lighter sounds, two or three together, like those of a hammer that
rebounded. At least, that was the impression formed in my confused
brain. These were mingled with other sounds, thus creating a veritable
uproar which proved that the intruders were not only bold, but felt
themselves secure from interruption.

They were right. I did not move. Was it cowardice? No, rather weakness,
a total inability to move any portion of my body, combined with
discretion; for why should I struggle? Behind that man, there were ten
others who would come to his assistance. Should I risk my life to save a
few tapestries and bibelots?

Throughout the night, my torture endured. Insufferable torture, terrible
anguish! The noises had stopped, but I was in constant fear of their
renewal. And the man! The man who was guarding me, weapon in hand. My
fearful eyes remained cast in his direction. And my heart beat! And a
profuse perspiration oozed from every pore of my body!

Suddenly, I experienced an immense relief; a milk-wagon, whose sound was
familiar to me, passed alon