really awake. As I reasoned on the phenomenon, and came naturally to the
unwilling conclusion that my hallucination was probably premonitory of
malaria, my nerves grew quiet, I began to think less intensely, and then
I fell asleep.

The next morning I awoke with a feeling of disagreeable anticipation. I
was loath to rise, even though the warm Italian sunlight was pouring
into the room and gilding the dingy interior with brilliant
reflections. In spite of this cheering glow of sunshine, the rooms still
had the same dead and uninhabited appearance, and the presence of my
friend, a vigorous and practical man, seemed to bring no recognizable
vitality or human element to counteract the oppressiveness of the place.
Every detail of my waking dream or hallucination of the night before was
perfectly fresh in my mind, and the sense of apprehension was still
strong upon me.

The distracting operations of settling the studio, and the frequent
excursions to neighboring shops to buy articles necessary to our meagre
housekeeping, did much towards taking my mind off the incident of the
night, but every time I entered the sitting-room or the bedroom it all
came up to me with a vividness that made my nerves quiver. We explored
all the corners and cupboards of the place. We even crawled up over the
sitting-room behind the dingy curtain, where a large quantity of disused
frames and old stretchers were packed away. We familiarized ourselves,
in fact, with every nook and cranny of each room; moved the furniture
about in a different order; hung up draperies and sketches, and in many
ways changed the character of the interior. The faded, weary-looking
widow from whom I hired the place, and who took care of the rooms,
carried away to her own apartment many of the most obnoxious trifles
which encumbered the small tables, the etagere, and the wall spaces. She
sighed a great deal as we were making the rapid changes to suit our own
taste, but made no objection, and we naturally thought it was the
regular custom of every new occupant to turn the place upside down.

Late in the afternoon I was alone in the studio for an hour or more, and
sat by the fire trying to read. The daylight was not gone, and the
rumble of the busy street came plainly to my ears. I say "trying to
read," for I found reading quite impossible. The moment I began to fix
my attention on the page, I had a very powerful feeling that some one
was looking over my shoulder. Do what I