state of irritation, he turned on his back, and with his eyes wide open,
gave up his mind to the young woman. His equilibrium was upset, he again
trembled with violent fever, as formerly. He had an idea of getting up,
and returning to the Arcade of the Pont Neuf. He would have the iron
gate opened, and Therese would receive him. The thought sent his blood
racing.

The lucidity of his reverie was astonishing. He saw himself in the
streets walking rapidly beside the houses, and he said to himself:

"I will take this Boulevard, I will cross this Square, so as to arrive
there quicker."

Then the iron gate of the arcade grated, he followed the narrow, dark,
deserted corridor, congratulating himself at being able to go up to
Therese without being seen by the dealer in imitation jewelry. Next
he imagined he was in the alley, in the little staircase he had so
frequently ascended. He inhaled the sickly odour of the passage, he
touched the sticky walls, he saw the dirty shadow that hung about there.
And he ascended each step, breathless, and with his ear on the alert. At
last he scratched against the door, the door opened, and Therese stood
there awaiting him.

His thoughts unfolded before him like real scenes. With his eyes fixed
on darkness, he saw. When at the end of his journey through the streets,
after entering the arcade, and climbing the little staircase, he thought
he perceived Therese, ardent and pale, he briskly sprang from his bed,
murmuring:

"I must go there. She's waiting for me."