hen wish to hypnotize her
while she slept? Was it possible? Then the dictionary had deceived her?

In truth it was while she slept that Saniel tried to transform her
natural into an artificial sleep. Would he succeed? He knew nothing
about it, for the experience was new. But he risked it.

The first time, instead of putting her into a state of somnambulism, he
awoke her; the second, he succeeded no better; the third, when he saw
that after a certain time she did not open her eyes, he supposed that
she was asleep. To assure himself, he raised her arm, which remained
in the air until he placed it on the bed. Then taking her two hands, he
turned them backward, and withdrawing his own, the impulsion which he
gave lasted until he checked it. Her face had an expression of calmness
and tranquillity that it had not had for a long time; she was the pretty
Phillis of other days, with the sprightly glance.

"To-morrow I will make you sleep at the same time," he said, "and you
will talk."

The next night he put her to sleep even more easily, but when he
questioned her she resisted.

"No," she said, "I will not speak; it is horrible. I will not, I
cannot."

He insisted, but she would not.

"Very well, so be it," he said; "not to-day, to-morrow. But to-morrow I
wish you to speak, and you shall not resist me; I will it!"

If he did not insist it was not only because he knew that habit was
necessary to make her submit to his will without being able to defend
herself, but because he was ignorant whether, when she awoke, she had
any memory of what happened in her sleep, which was an important point.

The next night she was the same as she had been the previous evening,
and nothing indicated that she was conscious of her provoked sleep, any
more than what she said in this sleep. He could then continue.

This time she went to sleep sooner and more easily than usual, and her
face took the expression of tranquillity and repose he had seen the
night before. Would she answer? And if she consented, would she speak
sincerely, without attempting to weaken or falsify the truth? Emotion
made his voice tremble when he put the first question; it was his life,
his peace, the happiness of both which decided him.

"Where do you suffer?" he asked.

"I do not suffer."

"Yet you are agitated, often melancholy or uneasy; you do not sleep
well. What troubles you?"

"I am afraid."

"Afraid of what? Of whom?"

"Of you!"

He trembled.