revented my sleeping, ruined my health, and left me no enjoyment
in my life. The person for whom I made the work haunted me day and
night like a spectre--I saw that person continually before my mental
vision, with my beautiful jewels on, and a voice kept whispering to me:
'They belong to you! take them; what's the use of diamonds to the
dead?' At last I betook myself to thieving. I had access to the houses
of the great; I took advantage quickly of every opportunity. No locks
withstood my skill, and I soon had my work back in my hands again. But
this was not enough to calm my unrest. That mysterious voice made
itself heard again, jeering at me, and saying, 'Ho, ho! one of the dead
is wearing your jewels.' I did not know whence it came, but I had an
indescribable hatred for all those for whom I made jewelry. More than
that, in the depths of my heart I began to long to kill them; this
frightened me. Just then I bought this house. I had concluded the
bargain with the owner: here in this very room we were sitting,
drinking a bottle of wine in honour of the transaction. Night had come
on, he was going to leave when he said to me: 'Look here, Maitre Rene,
before I go I must let you into a secret about this house.' He opened
that cupboard, which is let into the wall there, and pushed the back of
it in; this let him into a little closet, where he bowed down and
raised a trap-door. This showed us a steep, narrow stair, which we went
down, and at the bottom of it was a little narrow door, which let us
out into the open courtyard. There he went up to the wall, pushed a
piece of iron which projected a very little, and immediately a piece of
the wall turned round, so that a person could get out through the
opening into the street. You must see this contrivance sometime,
Olivier; the sly old monks of the convent, which this house once was,
must have had it made so as to be able to slip out and in secretly. It
is wood but covered with lime and mortar on the outside, and to the
outer side of it is fitted a statue, also of wood, though _looking_
exactly like stone, which turns on wooden hinges. When I saw this
arrangement, dark ideas surged up in my mind; it seemed to me that
deeds, as yet mysterious to myself, were here pre-arranged for. I had
just finished a splendid set of ornaments for a gentleman of the
court who, I knew, was going to give them to an opera dancer. My
death-torture soon was on me; the spectre dogged my steps, the whisp