es.

She scarcely gave them a glance, and she certainly gave them no thought.
She sat before the table, supporting her head in her hands and trying
to think connectedly of what had just happened. She knew well enough how
the Wanderer had lain upon the frozen ground, his head supported on her
knee, while the watchman had gone to call a carriage. She remembered how
she had summoned all her strength and had helped to lift him in, as few
women could have done. She remembered every detail of the place, and
everything she had done, even to the fact that she had picked up his hat
and a stick he had carried and had taken them into the vehicle with her.
The short drive through the ill-lighted streets was clear to her. She
could still feel the pressure of his shoulder as he had leaned heavily
against her; she could see the pale face by the fitful light of the
lanterns as they passed, and of the lamps that flashed in front of the
carriage with each jolting of the wheels over the rough paving-stones.
She remembered exactly what she had done, her efforts to wake him, at
first regular and made with the certainty of success, then more and more
mad as she realised that something had put him beyond the sphere of her
powers for the moment, if not for ever; his deathly pallor, his chilled
hands, his unnatural stillness--she remembered it all, as one remembers
circumstances in real life a moment after they have taken place. But
there remained also the recollection of a single moment during which
her whole being had been at the mercy of an impression so vivid that
it seemed to stand alone divested of any outward sensations by which
to measure its duration. She, who could call up visions in the minds of
others, who possessed the faculty of closing her bodily eyes in order to
see distant places and persons in the state of trance, she, who expected
no surprises in her own act, had seen something very vividly, which
she could not believe had been a reality, and which she yet could not
account for as a revelation of second sight. That dark, mysterious
presence that had come bodily, yet without a body, between her and the
man she loved was neither a real woman, nor the creation of her own
brain, nor a dream seen in hypnotic state. She had not the least idea
how long it had stood there; it seemed an hour, and it seemed but a
second. But that incorporeal thing had a life and a power of its own.
Never before had she felt that unearthly chill run thro