His wardrobe and other small possessions had already been packed up,
and sent to his future home; and there was nothing left in his room
now but his new wedding suit, which he inspected with considerable
satisfaction before he undressed and lay down to sleep.
Sleep, however, was somewhat slow to visit him, and the clock had struck
one before he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it was broad
daylight, and his first thought was, had he overslept himself? He sat
up in bed to look at the clock, which was exactly opposite; and as he
did so, in the large mirror over the fireplace, he perceived a figure
standing behind him. As the dilated eyes met his own, he saw it was
the face of Jacques Rollet. Overcome with horror, he sank back on his
pillow, and it was some minutes before he ventured to look again in
that direction; when he did so, the figure had disappeared.
The sudden revulsion of feeling which such a vision was calculated to
occasion in a man elate with joy may be conceived. For some time after
the death of his former foe, he had been visited by not infrequent
twinges of conscience; but of late, borne along by success and the hurry
of Parisian life, these unpleasant remembrances had grown rarer, till
at length they had faded away altogether.
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