he sleeps, good man, with his chignon somewhat dishevelled, a sound
sleep, which it would be cruel to disturb.

Let us go to the end of the terrace, contemplate the roadstead at our
feet, and then return home. To-night the harbor looks only like a dark
and sinister rent, which the moonbeams cannot fathom,--a yawning
crevasse opening into the very bowels of the earth, at the bottom of
which lie faint and small glimmers, an assembly of glow-worms in a
ditch--the lights of the different vessels lying at anchor.




XLVII.


It is the middle of the night, somewhere about two in the morning. Our
night-lamps are burning still, a little dimly, in front of our
peaceful idols. Chrysanthème wakes me suddenly, and I turn to look at
her: she has raised herself on one arm, and her face expresses the
most intense terror; she makes me a sign, without daring to speak,
that someone is near, or something, creeping up to us. What ill-timed
visit is this? A feeling of fear gains possession of me also. I have a
rapid impression of some immense unknown danger, in this isolated
spot, in this strange country of which I do not even yet comprehend
the inhabitants and the mysteries. It must be something very
frightful, to hold her there, rooted to the spot, half dead with
fright, she who _does_ comprehend all these things.

It would seem to be outside: it is coming from the garden; with