edroom I experienced the same
succession of physical shocks; but whether they followed each other in
the same order or not I was unable to determine.

It was some time before I could get to sleep, and I opened my eyes once
or twice before I lost consciousness. From the bedroom window there was
a dim, very dim light on the lace curtains, but the window itself was
visible as a square mass, and did not appear to illuminate the room in
the least. Suddenly, after a dreamless sleep of some duration, I awoke
as completely as if I had been startled by a loud noise. The lace
curtains were now quite brilliantly lighted from somewhere, I could not
tell where, but the window itself seemed to be as little luminous as
when I went to sleep. Without moving my head, I turned my eyes in the
direction of the studio, and could see the open door as a dark patch in
the gray wall, but nothing more. Then, as I was looking again at the
curious illumination of the curtains, a moving mass came into the angle
of my vision out of the corner of the room near the head of the bed, and
passed slowly into full view between me and the curtain. It was
unmistakably the figure of a man, not unlike that of the better type of
Italian, and was dressed in the commonly worn soft hat and ample cloak.
His profile came out clearly against the light background of the lace
curtain, and showed him to be a man of considerable refinement of
feature. He did not make an actually solid black silhouette against the
light, neither was the figure translucent, but was rather like an object
seen through a vapor or through a sheet of thin ground glass.

I tried to raise my head, but my nerve force seemed suddenly to fail me,
and while I was wondering at my powerlessness, and reasoning at the
same time that it must be a nightmare, the figure had moved slowly
across in front of the window, and out through the open door into the
studio.

I listened breathlessly, but not a sound did I hear from the next room.
I pinched myself, opened and shut my eyes, and noticed that the
breathing of my roommate was irregular, and unlike that of a sleeping
man. I am unable to understand why I did not sit up or turn over or
speak to my friend to find out if he was awake. I was fully conscious
that I ought to do this, but something, I know not what, forced me to
lie perfectly motionless watching the window. I heard my roommate
breathing, opened and shut my eyes, and was certain, indeed, that I was