These ideas struck me with panic. I revolved them anew, but they only
acquired greater plausibility. No doubt I had been the victim of
malicious artifice. Inclination, however, conjured up opposite
sentiments, and my fears began to subside. What motive, I asked, could
induce a human being to inflict wanton injury? I could not account for
his delay; but how numberless were the contingencies that might occasion
it!

I was somewhat comforted by these reflections, but the consolation they
afforded was short-lived. I was listening with the utmost eagerness to
catch the sound of a foot, when a noise was indeed heard, but totally
unlike a step. It was human breath struggling, as it were, for passage.
On the first effort of attention, it appeared like a groan. Whence it
arose I could not tell. He that uttered it was near; perhaps in the
room.

Presently the same noise was again heard, and now I perceived that it
came from the bed. It was accompanied with a motion like some one
changing his posture. What I at first conceived to be a groan appeared
now to be nothing more than the expiration of a sleeping man. What
should I infer from this incident? My companion did not apprize me that
the apartment was inhabited. Was his imposture a jestful or a wicked
one?

There was no need to deliberate. There were no means of concealment or
escape. The person would some time awaken and detect me. The interval
would only be fraught with agony, and it was wise to shorten it. Should
I not withdraw the curtain, awake the person, and encounter at once all
the consequences of my situation? I glided softly to the bed, when the
thought occurred, May not the sleeper be a female?