as
that beset us form themselves into images in the brain. Yet sometimes,
by dint of viewing them with resigned terror, it would appear that these
menacing spectres have pity on me,--they grow dim--fade away--vanish.
Then I feel myself awakened from my horrid dream, but so weak--cast
down--prostrated--that--would you believe it? ah, how you will laugh,
Chouette!--that I weep! Do you hear? I weep! You don't laugh? Laugh!
Laugh! Laugh, I say!"

The Chouette gave a dull and stifled groan.

"Louder," said Tortillard; "can't hear."

"Yes," continued the Schoolmaster, "I weep, for I suffer and rage in
vain. I say to myself, 'To-morrow, next day, for ever, I shall be a prey
to the same attacks of delirium and gloomy desolation. 'What a life! Oh,
what a life! And I would not choose death rather than be buried alive
in this abyss which incessantly pervades my thoughts! Blind, alone, and
a prisoner,--what can relieve me from my remorse? Nothing, nothing! When
the fantasies disappear for a moment, and do not pass and repass the
black veil constantly before my eyes, there are other tortures,--other
overwhelming reflections. I say to myself, 'If I had remained an honest
man, I should be at this moment free, tranquil, happy, beloved, and
honoured by my connections, instead of being blind and chained in this
dungeon at the mercy of my accomplices.' Alas! the regret of happiness
lost from crime is the first step towards repentance; and when to
repentance is joined an expiation of fearful severity,--an expiation
which changes life into a long, sleepless night, filled with avenging
hallucinations or despairing reflections,--perhaps then man's pardon
succeeds to remorse and expiation."

"I say, old chap," exclaimed Tortillard, "you are borrowing a bit from
M. Moissard's part! Come, no cribbing--gammon!"

The Schoolmaster did not hear Bras-Rouge's son.

"You are astonished to hear me speak thus, Chouette? If I had continued
to imbrue myself either in bloody crimes or the fierce drunkenness of
the life of the galleys, this salutary change would never have come over
me I know full well. But alone, blind, stung with remorse, which eats
into me, of what else could I think? Of new crimes,--how to commit them?
Escape,--how to escape? And, if I escaped, whither should I go? What
should I do with my liberty? No; I must henceforth live in eternal
night, between the anguish of repentance and the fear of formidable
apparitions which pursue me.