f those
visions which lead simple folk to believe in miracles. It was a nervous
accident to the optical apparatus, nothing more; the eyes were rather
congested, perhaps.

I lit my candle, and when I stooped down to the fire in so doing, I
noticed that I was trembling, and I raised myself up with a jump, as if
somebody had touched me from behind.

I was certainly not by any means quiet.

I walked up and down a little, and hummed a tune or two.

Then I double-locked my door, and felt rather reassured; now, at any
rate, nobody could come in.

I sat down again, and thought over my adventure for a long time; then I
went to bed, and blew out my light.

For some minutes all went well; I lay quietly on my back, but then an
irresistible desire seized me to look round the room, and I turned on to
my side.

My fire was nearly out, and the few glowing embers threw a faint light
on to the floor by the chair, where I fancied I saw the man sitting
again.

I quickly struck a match, but I had been mistaken, for there was nothing
there; I got up, however, and hid the chair behind my bed, and tried to
get to sleep as the room was now dark, but I had not forgotten myself
for more than five minutes when in my dream I saw all the scene which I
had witnessed as clearly as if it were reality. I woke up with a start,
and having lit the candle, I sat up in bed, without venturing even to
try and go to sleep again.

Twice, however, sleep overcame me for a few moments in spite of myself,
and twice I saw the same thing again, till I fancied I was going mad;
when day broke, however, I thought that I was cured, and slept
peacefully till noon.

It was all past and over. I had been feverish, had had the nightmare; I
don't know what. I had been ill, in a word, but yet I thought that I was
a great fool.

I enjoyed myself thoroughly that evening; I went and dined at a
restaurant; afterwards I went to the theater, and then started home. But
as I got near the house I was seized by a strange feeling of uneasiness
once more; I was afraid of _seeing_ him again. I was not afraid of him,
not afraid of his presence, in which I did not believe; but I was afraid
of being deceived again; I was afraid of some fresh hallucination,
afraid lest fear should take possession of me.

Far more than an hour I wandered up and down the pavement; then I
thought that I was really too foolish, and at last I returned home. I
panted so that I could scarcely get upsta