u know, you imagined you heard this woman's
love-songs, and your hearing was suddenly smitten with horrible agony.
Mind, I say!"

"Leave me,--leave me! What is the use of hearing but to hear, of seeing
but to see?"

"But the tortures which follow, miserable wretch!"

"I will brave them all for a deceit, as I have braved death for a
reality; and to me this burning image is reality. Ah, Cecily, you are
beautiful! Yet why torture me thus? Would you kill me? Ah, execrable
fury, cease,--cease, or I will strangle thee!" cried the notary, in
delirium.

"You kill yourself, unhappy man!" exclaimed Polidori, shaking the
notary violently, in order to rouse him from his excitement. In vain;
Jacques continued:

"Oh, beloved queen, demon of delight, never did I see--" The notary
could not finish; he uttered a sudden cry of pain and threw himself
back.

"What is it?" inquired Polidori, with astonishment.

"Put out that candle--it shines too brightly. I cannot endure it--it
blinds me!"

"What!" said Polidori, more and more surprised. "There is but one lamp
covered with its shade, and that shines very feebly."

"I tell you, the light increases here. Now, again--again! Oh, it is too
much; it is intolerable!" added Jacques Ferrand, closing his eyes with
an expression of increasing suffering.

"You are mad--the room is scarcely lighted. I tell you, open your eyes
and you will see."

"Open my eyes! Why, I shall be blinded by torrents of burning light,
with which this room is filled. Here! There! On all sides, there are
rays of fire--millions of dazzling scintillations!" cried the notary,
sitting up. And then again shrieking, he lifted both his hands to his
eyes: "But I am blind; this burning fire is through my closed lids,--it
burns--devours me! Ah, now my hands shield me a little! But put out the
light, for it throws an infernal flame!"

"It is beyond doubt now!" said Polidori. "His sight is struck with the
same excess of sensitiveness as his hearing was; he is a dead man! To
bleed him in this state would at once destroy him."

A fresh cry ensued, sharp and terrible, from Jacques Ferrand, which
resounded in the chamber.

"Villain, put out that lamp! Its glaring beams penetrate through my
hands, which they make transparent. I see the blood circulate in the net
of my veins, and I try in vain to close my eyelids, for the burning lava
will flow in. Oh, what torture! There are gushes as dazzling as if some
one were thrusting