oak bed with its columns, was opposite to me; on my
right was the fireplace; on my left the door, which was carefully
closed, after I had left it open for some time, in order to attract
Him; behind me was a very high wardrobe with a looking-glass in it,
which served me to dress by every day, and in which I was in the habit
of inspecting myself from head to foot every time I passed it.

So I pretended to be writing in order to deceive Him, for He also was
watching me, and suddenly I felt, I was certain, that He was reading
over my shoulder, that He was there, almost touching my ear.

I got up so quickly, with my hands extended, that I almost fell.
Horror! It was as bright as at midday, but I did not see myself in the
glass! It was empty, clear, profound, full of light! But my figure was
not reflected in it--and I, I was opposite to it! I saw the large,
clear glass from top to bottom, and I looked at it with unsteady eyes.
I did not dare advance; I did not venture to make a movement; feeling
certain, nevertheless, that He was there, but that He would escape me
again, He whose imperceptible body had absorbed my reflection.

How frightened I was! And then suddenly I began to see myself through a
mist in the depths of the looking-glass, in a mist as it were, or
through a veil of water; and it seemed to me as if this water were
flowing slowly from left to right, and making my figure clearer every
moment. It was like the end of an eclipse. Whatever hid me did not
appear to possess any clearly defined outlines, but was a sort of
opaque transparency, which gradually grew clearer.

At last I was able to distinguish myself completely, as I do every day
when I look at myself.

I had seen Him! And the horror of it remained with me, and makes me
shudder even now.

August 21. How could I kill Him, since I could not get hold of Him?
Poison? But He would see me mix it with the water; and then, would our
poisons have any effect on His impalpable body? No--no--no doubt about
the matter. Then?--then?

August 22. I sent for a blacksmith from Rouen and ordered iron shutters
of him for my room, such as some private hotels in Paris have on the
ground floor, for fear of thieves, and he is going to make me a similar
door as well. I have made myself out a coward, but I do not care about
that!

September 10. Rouen, Hotel Continental. It is done; it is done--but is
He dead? My mind is thoroughly upset by what I have seen.

Well then, ye