atrocious hallucinations rising up before them.

Therese no longer dared enter her room after dusk. She experienced the
keenest anguish, when she had to shut herself until morning in this
large apartment, which became lit-up with strange glimmers, and peopled
with phantoms as soon as the light was out. She ended by leaving her
candle burning, and by preventing herself falling asleep, so as to
always have her eyes wide open. But when fatigue lowered her lids, she
saw Camille in the dark, and reopened her eyes with a start. In the
morning she dragged herself about, broken down, having only slumbered
for a few hours at dawn.

As to Laurent, he had decidedly become a poltroon since the night he
had taken fright when passing before the cellar door. Previous to that
incident he had lived with the confidence of a brute; now, at the least
sound, he trembled and turned pale like a little boy. A shudder of
terror had suddenly shaken his limbs, and had clung to him. At night,
he suffered even more than Therese; and fright, in this great, soft,
cowardly frame, produced profound laceration to the feelings. He watched
the fall of day with cruel apprehension. On several occasions, he failed
to return home, and passed whole nights walking in the middle of the
deserted streets.

Once he remained beneath a bridge, until morning, while the rain poured
down in torrents; and there, huddled up, half frozen, not daring to rise
and ascend to the quay, he for nearly six hours watched the dirty water
running in the whitish shadow. At times a fit of terror brought him flat
down on the damp ground: under one of the arches of the bridge he seemed
to see long lines of drowned bodies drifting along in the current. When
weariness drove him home, he shut himself in, and double-locked the