The senses then grew numb, and life is
abolished by degrees; thoughts are incomplete, and the last quivering
of our consciousness seems like a sort of reverie. "How heavy the air
is!" he thought; "I seem to be breathing a moist vapor." He explained
this vaguely to himself by the difference which must exist between the
atmosphere of the close room and the purer air by the river. But
presently he heard a periodical noise, something like that made by
drops of water falling from a robinet into a fountain. Obeying a
feeling of panic terror he was about to rise and call the innkeeper
and waken Wahlenfer and Wilhelm, but he suddenly remembered, alas! to
his great misfortune, the tall wooden clock; he fancied the sound was
that of the pendulum, and he fell asleep with that confused and
indistinct perception.
["Do you want some water, Monsieur Taillefer?" said the master of the
house, observing that the banker was mechanically pouring from an
empty decanter.
Monsieur Hermann continued his narrative after the slight pause
occasioned by this interruption.]
The next morning Prosper Magnan was awakened by a great noise. He
seemed to hear piercing cries, and he felt that violent shuddering of
the nerves which we suffer when on awaking we continue to feel a
painful impression begun in sleep.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38