barrass ourselves of him.

In my solitary hours all these events were reproduced with frightful
distinctness in my mind.

"This old wretch," I said to myself, "is the cause of it all; she alone
has conceived these crimes, and has consummated them. But by what
means? Has she had recourse to cunning alone, or has she obtained the
intervention of invisible powers?" I walked to and fro in my retreat.
An inward voice cried out: "It is not in vain that Providence permitted
you to see Fledermausse contemplating the agonies of her victim. It is
not in vain that the soul of the poor young man came in the form of a
butterfly of the night to awake you. No, no; all this was not
accidental, Christian. The heavens impose upon you a terrible mission.
If you do not accomplish it, tremble lest you fall yourself into the
hands of the old murderess! Perhaps, at this moment, she is preparing
her snares in the darkness."

During several days these hideous images followed me without
intermission. I lost my sleep; it was impossible for me to do anything;
my brush fell from my hand; and, horrible to confess, I found myself
sometimes gazing at the crossbeam with a sort of complacency. At last I
could endure it no longer, and one evening I descended the ladder and
hid myself behind the door of Fledermausse, hoping to surprise her
fatal secret.

From that time no day passed in which I was not _en route_, following
the old wretch, watching, spying, never losing sight of her; but she
was so cunning, had a scent so subtile that, without even turning her
head, she knew I was behind her.

However, she feigned not to perceive this; she went to the market, to
the butcher's, like any good, simple woman, only hastening her steps
and murmuring confused words.

At the close of the month I saw that it was impossible for me to attain
my object in this way, and this conviction made me inexpressibly sad.

"What can I do?" I said to myself. "The old woman divines my plans;
she is on her guard; every hope abandons me. Ah! old hag, you think
you already see me at the end of your rope." I was continually asking
myself this question: "What can I do? what can I do?" At last a
luminous idea struck me. My chamber overlooked the house of
Fledermausse; but there was no window on this side. I adroitly raised
a slate, and no pen could paint my joy when the whole ancient building
was thus exposed to me. "At last, I have you!" I exclaimed; "you
cannot escape me now;