carrying
away surreptitiously all my furniture.
I doubted, however, for some considerable time yet, the evidence of my
ears. But having placed my ear against one of the outhouses, the better
to discover what this strange disturbance was, inside my house, I
became convinced, certain, that something was taking place in my
residence which was altogether abnormal and incomprehensible. I had no
fear, but I was--how shall I express it--paralyzed by astonishment. I
did not draw my revolver, knowing very well that there was no need of
my doing so.
I listened a long time, but could come to no resolution, my mind being
quite clear, though in myself I was naturally anxious. I got up and
waited, listening always to the noise, which gradually increased, and
at intervals grew very loud, and which seemed to become an impatient,
angry disturbance, a mysterious commotion.
Then, suddenly, ashamed of my timidity, I seized my bunch of keys. I
selected the one I wanted, guided it into the lock, turned it twice,
and pushing the door with all my might, sent it banging against the
partition.
The collision sounded like the report of a gun, and there responded to
that explosive noise, from roof to basement of my residence, a
formidable tumult. It was so sudden, so terrible, so deafening, that I
recoiled a few steps, and though I knew it to be wholly useless, I
pulled my revolver out of its case.
I continued to listen for some time longer. I could distinguish now an
extraordinary pattering upon the steps of my grand staircase, on the
waxed floors, on the carpets, not of boots, or of naked feet, but of
iron and wooden crutches, which resounded like cymbals. Then I suddenly
discerned, on the threshold of my door, an armchair, my large reading
easy-chair, which set off waddling. It went away through my garden.
Others followed it, those of my drawing-room, then my sofas, dragging
themselves along like crocodiles on their short paws; then all my
chairs, bounding like goats, and the little foot-stools, hopping like
rabbits.
Oh! what a sensation! I slunk back into a clump of bushes where I
remained crouched up, watching, meanwhile, my furniture defile
past--for everything walked away, the one behind the other, briskly or
slowly, according to its weight or size. My piano, my grand piano,
bounded past with the gallop of a horse and a murmur of music in its
sides; the smaller articles slid along the gravel like snails, my
brushes, crystal,
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