Towards　evening；　after　they　had　passed　Cesne；　he　was　awakened　by
  lively　music；　and　found　himself　confronted　with　a　village　fair。　The
  horses　were　changed　near　the　marketplace。　Whilst　the　postilions　were
  engaged　in　making　the　transfer；　he　saw　the　people　dancing　merrily；
  pretty　and　attractive　girls　with　flowers　about　them；　excited　youths；
  and　finally　the　jolly　wine…flushed　countenances　of　old　peasants。
  Children　prattled；　old　women　laughed　and　chatted；　everything　spoke　in
  one　voice；　and　there　was　a　holiday　gaiety　about　everything；　down　to
  their　clothing　and　the　tables　that　were　set　out。　A　cheerful　expression
  pervaded　the　square　and　the　church；　the　roofs　and　windows；　even　the
  very　doorways　of　the　village　seemed　likewise　to　be　in　holiday　trim。
  Raphael　could　not　repress　an　angry　exclamation；　nor　yet　a　wish　to
  silence　the　fiddles；　annihilate　the　stir　and　bustle；　stop　the　clamor；
  and　disperse　the　ill…timed　festival；　like　a　dying　man；　he　felt　unable
  to　endure　the　slightest　sound；　and　he　entered　his　carriage　much
  annoyed。　When　he　looked　out　upon　the　square　from　the　window；　he　saw
  that　all　the　happiness　was　scared　away；　the　peasant　women　were　in
  flight；　and　the　benches　were　deserted。　Only　a　blind　musician；　on　the
  scaffolding　of　the　orchestra；　went　on　playing　a　shrill　tune　on　his
  clarionet。　That　piping　of　his；　without　dancers　to　it；　and　the　solitary
  old　man　himself；　in　the　shadow　of　the　lime…tree；　with　his　curmudgeon's
  face；　scanty　hair；　and　ragged　clothing；　was　like　a　fantastic　picture
  of　Raphael's　wish。　The　heavy　rain　was　pouring　in　torrents；　it　was　one
  of　those　thunderstorms　that　June　brings　about　so　rapidly；　to　cease　as
  suddenly。　The　thing　was　so　natural；　that；　when　Raphael　had　looked　out
  and　seen　some　pale　clouds　driven　over　by　a　gust　of　wind；　he　did　not
  think　of　looking　at　the　piece　of　skin。　He　lay　back　again　in　the　corner
  of　his　carriage；　which　was　very　soon　rolling　upon　its　way。
  The　next　day　found　him　back　in　his　home　again；　in　his　own　room；　beside
  his　own　fireside。　He　had　had　a　large　fire　lighted；　he　felt　cold。
  Jonathan　brought　him　some　letters；　they　were　all　from　Pauline。　He
  opened　the　first　one　without　any　eagerness；　and　unfolded　it　as　if　it
  had　been　the　gray…paper　form　of　application　for　taxes　made　by　the
  revenue　collector。　He　read　the　first　sentence：
  〃Gone！　This　really　is　a　flight；　my　Raphael。　How　is　it？　No　one　can　tell
  me　where　you　are。　And　who　should　know　if　not　I？〃
  He　did　not　wish　to　learn　any　more。　He　calmly　took　up　the　letters　and
  threw　them　in　the　fire；　watching　with　dull　and　lifeless　eyes　the
  perfumed　paper　as　it　was　twisted；　shriveled；　bent；　and　devoured　by　the
  capricious　flames。　Fragments　that　fell　among　the　ashes　allowed　him　to
  see　the　beginning　of　a　sentence；　or　a　half…burnt　thought　or　word；　he
  took　a　pleasure　in　deciphering　thema　sort　of　mechanical　amusement。
  〃Sitting　at　your　doorexpectedCapriceI　obeyRivalsI；　never！
  thy　Paulineloveno　more　of　Pauline？If　you　had　wished　to　leave　me
  for　ever；　you　would　not　have　deserted　meLove　eternalTo　die〃
  The　words　caused　him　a　sort　of　remorse；　he　seized　the　tongs；　and
  rescued　a　last　fragment　of　the　letter　from　the　flames。
  〃I　have　murmured；〃　so　Pauline　wrote；　〃but　I　have　never　complained；　my
  Raphael！　If　you　have　left　me　so　far　behind　you；　it　was　doubtless
  because　you　wished　to　hide　some　heavy　grief　from　me。　Perhaps　you　will
  kill　me　one　of　these　days；　but　you　are　too　good　to　torture　me。　So　do
  not　go　away　from　me　like　this。　There！　I　can　bear　the　worst　of　torment；
  if　only　I　am　at　your　side。　Any　grief　that　you　could　cause　me　would　not
  be　grief。　There　is　far　more　love　in　my　heart　for　you　than　I　have　ever
  yet　shown　you。　I　can　endure　anything；　except　this　weeping　far　away
  from　you；　this　ignorance　of　your〃
  Raphael　laid　the　scorched　scrap　on　the　mantelpiece；　then　all　at　once
  he　flung　it　into　the　fire。　The　bit　of　paper　was　too　clearly　a　symbol
  of　his　own　love　and　luckless　existence。
  〃Go　and　find　M。　Bianchon；〃　he　told　Jonathan。
  Horace　came　and　found　Raphael　in　bed。
  〃Can　you　prescribe　a　draught　for　mesome　mild　opiate　which　will
  always　keep　me　in　a　somnolent　condition；　a　draught　that　will　not　be
  injurious　although　taken　constantly。〃
  〃Nothing　is　easier；〃　the　young　doctor　replied；　〃but　you　will　have　to
  keep　on　your　feet　for　a　few　hours　daily；　at　any　rate；　so　as　to　take
  your　food。〃
  〃A　few　hours！〃　Raphael　broke　in；　〃no；　no！　I　only　wish　to　be　out　of　bed
  for　an　hour　at　most。〃
  〃What　is　your　object？〃　inquired　Bianchon。
  〃To　sleep；　for　so　one　keeps　alive；　at　any　rate；〃　the　patient　answered。
  〃Let　no　one　come　in；　not　even　Mlle。　Pauline　de　Wistchnau！〃　he　added　to
  Jonathan；　as　the　doctor　was　writing　out　his　prescription。
  〃Well；　M。　Horace；　is　there　any　hope？〃　the　old　servant　asked；　going　as
  far　as　the　flight　of　steps　before　the　door；　with　the　young　doctor。
  〃He　may　live　for　some　time　yet；　or　he　may　die　to…night。　The　chances　of
  life　and　death　are　evenly　balanced　in　his　case。　I　can't　understand　it
  at　all；〃　said　the　doctor；　with　a　doubtful　gesture。　〃His　mind　ought　to
  be　diverted。〃
  〃Diverted！　Ah；　sir；　you　don't　know　him！　He　killed　a　man　the　other　day
  without　a　word！Nothing　can　divert　him！〃
  For　some　days　Raphael　lay　plunged　in　the　torpor　of　this　artificial
  sleep。　Thanks　to　the　material　power　that　opium　exerts　over　the
  immaterial　part　of　us；　this　man　with　the　powerful　and　active
  imagination　reduced　himself　to　the　level　of　those　sluggish　forms　of
  animal　life　that　lurk　in　the　depths　of　forests；　and　take　the　form　of
  vegetable　refuse；　never　stirring　from　their　place　to　catch　their　easy
  prey。　He　had　darkened　the　very　sun　in　heaven；　the　daylight　never
  entered　his　room。　About　eight　o'clock　in　the　evening　he　would　leave
  his　bed；　with　no　very　clear　consciousness　of　his　own　existence；　he
  would　satisfy　the　claims　of　hunger　and　return　to　bed　immediately。　One
  dull　blighted　hour　after　another　only　brought　confused　pictures　and
  appearances　before　him；　and　lights　and　shadows　against　a　background　of
  darkness。　He　lay　buried　in　deep　silence；　movement　and　intelligence
  were　completely　annihilated　for　him。　He　woke　later　than　usual　one
  evening；　and　found　that　his　dinner　was　not　ready。　He　rang　for
  Jonathan。
  〃You　can　go；〃　he　said。　〃I　have　made　you　rich；　you　shall　be　happy　in
  your　old　age；　but　I　will　not　let　you　muddle　away　my　life　any　longer。
  Miserable　wretch！　I　am　hungrywhere　is　my　dinner？　How　is　it？Answer
  me！〃
  A　satisfied　smile　stole　over　Jonathan's　face。　He　took　a　candle　that
  lit　up　the　great　dark　rooms　of　the　mansion　with　its　flickering　light；
  brought　his　master；　who　had　again　become　an　automaton；　into　a　great
  gallery；　and　flung　a　door　suddenly　open。　Raphael　was　all　at　once
  dazzled　by　a　flood　of　light　and　amazed　by　an　unheard…of　scene。
  His　chandeliers　had　been　filled　with　wax…lights；　the　rarest　flowers
  from　his　conservatory　were　carefully　arranged　about　the　room；　the
  table　sparkled　with　silver；　gold；　crystal；　and　porcelain；　a　royal
  banquet　was　spreadthe　odors　of　the　tempting　dishes　tickled　the
  nervous　fibres　of　the　palate。　There　sat　his　friends；　he　saw　them　among
  beautiful　women　in　full　evening　dress；　with　bare　necks　and　shoulders；
  with　flowers　in　their　hair；　fair　women　of　every　type；　with　sparkling
  eyes；　attractively　and　fancifully　arrayed。　One　had　adopted　an　Irish
  jacket；　which　displayed　the　alluring　outlines　of　her　form；　one　wore
  the　〃basquina〃　of　Andalusia；　with　its　wanton　grace；　here　was　a　half…
  clad　Dian　the　huntress；　there　the　costume　of　Mlle。　de　la　Valliere；
  amorous　and　coy；　and　all　of　them　alike　were　given　up　to　the
  intoxication　of　the　moment。
  As　Raphael's　death…pale　face　showed　itself　in　the　doorway；　a　sudden
  outcry　broke　out；　as　vehement　as　the　blaze　of　this　improvised　banquet。
  The　voices；　perfumes；　and　lights；　the　exquisite　beauty　of　the　women；
  produced　their　effect　upon　his　senses；　and　awakened　his　desires。
  Delightful　music；　from　unseen　players　in　the　next　room；　drowned　the
  excited　tumult　in　a　torrent　of　harmonythe　whole　strange　vision　was
  complete。
  Raphael　felt　a　caressing　pressure　on　is　own　hand；　a　woman's　white；
  youthful　arms　were　stretched　out　to　grasp　him；　and　the　hand　was
  Aquilina's。　He　knew　now　that　this　scene　was　not　a　fantastic　illusion
  like　the　fleeting　pictures　of　his　disordered　dreams；　he　uttered　a
  dreadful　cry；　slammed　the　door；　and　dealt　his　heartbroken　old　servant
  a　blow　in　the　face。
  〃Monster！〃　he　cried；　〃so　you　have　sworn　to　kill　me！〃　and　trembling　at
  the　risks　he　had　just　now　run；　he　summoned　all　his　energies；　reached
  his　room；　took　a　powerful　sleeping　draught；　and　went　to　bed。
  〃The　devil！〃　cried　Jonathan；　recovering　himself。　〃And　M。　Bianchon　most
  certainly　told　me　to　divert　his　mind。〃
  It　was　close　upon　midnight。　By　that　time；　owing　to　one　of　those
  physical　caprices　that　are　the　marvel　and　the　despair　of　science；
  Raphael；　in　his　slumber；　became　radiant　with　beauty。　A　bright　color
  glowed　on　his　pale　cheeks。　There　was　an　almost　girlish　grace　about　the
  forehead　in　which　his　genius　was　revealed。　Life　seemed　to　bloom　on　the
  quiet　face　that　lay　there　at　rest。　His　sleep　was　sound；　a　light；　even
  breath　was　drawn　in　between　red　lips；　he　was　smilinghe　had　passed　no
  doubt　through　the　gate　of　dreams　into　a　noble　life。　Was　he　a
  centena