tance away.

Then he put his face close to the window pane, thinking that a person
looking for crabs might be poaching in the Brindille, for it was past
midnight, and this light rose up at the edge of the stream, under the
trees. As he was not yet able to see clearly, Renardet placed his hands
over his eyes, and suddenly this light became an illumination, and he
beheld little Louise Roque naked and bleeding on the moss. He recoiled,
frozen with horror, knocked over his chair and fell over on his back. He
remained there some minutes in anguish of mind; then he sat up and began
to reflect. He had had a hallucination--that was all, a hallucination
due to the fact that a night marauder was walking with a lantern in his
hand near the water's edge. What was there astonishing, besides, in the
circumstance that the recollection of his crime should sometimes bring
before him the vision of the dead girl?

He rose from the ground, swallowed a glass of wine and sat down again.
He was thinking:

"What am I to do if this occurs again?"

And it would occur; he felt it; he was sure of it. Already his glance
was drawn toward the window; it called him; it attracted him. In order
to avoid looking at it, he turned his chair round. Then he took a
book and tried to read, but it seemed to him that he presently heard
something stirring behind him, and he swung round his armchair on one
foot.

The curtain was moving again; unquestionably, it moved this time. He
could no longer have any doubt about it.

He rushed forward and grasped it so violently that he pulled it down
with its pole. Then he eagerly glued his face to the glass. He saw
nothing. All was black outside, and he breathed with the joy of a man
whose life has just been saved.

Then he went back to his chair and sat down again, but almost
immediately he felt a longing to look out once more through the window.
Since the curtain had fallen down, the window made a sort of gap,
fascinating and terrible, on the dark landscape. In order not to yield
to this dangerous temptation, he undressed, blew out the light and
closed his eyes.

Lying on his back motionless, his skin warm and moist, he awaited sleep.
Suddenly a great gleam of light flashed across his eyelids. He opened
them, believing that his dwelling was on fire. All was black as before,
and he leaned on his elbow to try to distinguish the window which had
still for him an unconquerable attraction. By dint of, straining his