Three o’clock in the morning had just struck, and he had been walking
thus for five hours, almost uninterruptedly, when he at length allowed
himself to drop into his chair.
There he fell asleep and had a dream.
This dream, like the majority of dreams, bore no relation to the
situation, except by its painful and heart-rending character, but it
made an impression on him. This nightmare struck him so forcibly that
he wrote it down later on. It is one of the papers in his own
handwriting which he has bequeathed to us. We think that we have here
reproduced the thing in strict accordance with the text.
Of whatever nature this dream may be, the history of this night would
be incomplete if we were to omit it: it is the gloomy adventure of an
ailing soul.
Here it is. On the envelope we find this line inscribed, “The Dream I
had that Night.”
“I was in a plain; a vast, gloomy plain, where there was no grass. It
did not seem to me to be daylight nor yet night.
“I was walking with my brother, the brother of my childish years, the
brother of whom, I must say, I never think, and whom I now hardly
remember.
“We were conversing and we met some passers-by. We were talking of a
neighbor of ours in former days, who had always worked with her window
open from the time when she came to live on the street. As we talked we
felt cold because of that open window.
“There were no trees in the plain. We saw a man passing close to us. He
was entirely nude, of the hue of ashes, and mounted on a horse which
was earth color. The man had no hair; we could see his skull and the
veins on it. In his hand he held a switch which was as supple as a
vine-shoot and as heavy as iron. This horseman passed and said nothing
to us.
“My brother said to me, ‘Let us take to the hollow road.’
“There existed a hollow way wherein one saw neither a single shrub nor
a spear of moss. Everything was dirt-colored, even the sky. After
proceeding a few paces, I received no reply when I spoke: I perceived
that my brother was no longer with me.
“I entered a village which I espied. I reflected that it must be
Romainville. (Why Romainville?)5
“The first street that I entered was deserted. I entered a second
street. Behind the angle formed by the two streets, a man was standing
erect against the wall. I said to this man:—
“‘What country is this? Where am I?’ The man made no reply. I saw the
door of a house open, and I entered.
“The first chamber was deserted. I entered the second. Behind the door
of this chamber a man was standing erect against the wall. I inquired
of this man, ‘Whose house is this? Where am I?’ The man replied not.
“The house had a garden. I quitted the house and entered the garden.
The garden was deserted. Behind the first tree I found a man standing
upright. I said to this man, ‘What garden is this? Where am I?’ The man
did not answer.
“I strolled into the village, and perceived that it was a town. All the
streets were deserted, all the doors were open. Not a single living
being was passing in the streets, walking through the chambers or
strolling in the gardens. But behind each angle of the walls, behind
each door, behind each tree, stood a silent man. Only one was to be
seen at a time. These men watched me pass.
“I left the town and began to ramble about the fields.
“After the lapse of some time I turned back and saw a great crowd
coming up behind me. I recognized all the men whom I had seen in that
town. They had strange heads. They did not seem to be in a hurry, yet
they walked faster than I did. They made no noise as they walked. In an
instant this crowd had overtaken and surrounded me. The faces of these
men were earthen in hue.
“Then the first one whom I had seen and questioned on entering the town
said to me:—
“‘Whither are you going! Do you not know that you have been dead this
long time?’
“I opened my mouth to reply, and I perceived that there was no one near
me.”
He woke. He was icy cold. A wind which was chill like the breeze of
dawn was rattling the leaves of the window, which had been left open on
their hinges. The fire was out. The candle was nearing its end. It was
still black night.
He rose, he went to the window. There were no stars in the sky even
yet.
From his window the yard of the house and the street were visible. A
sharp, harsh noise, which made him drop his eyes, resounded from the
earth.
Below him he perceived two red stars, whose rays lengthened and
shortened in a singular manner through the darkness.
As his thoughts were still half immersed in the mists of sleep, “Hold!”
said he, “there are no stars in the sky. They are on earth now.”
But this confusion vanished; a second sound similar to the first roused
him thoroughly; he looked and recognized the fact that these two stars
were the lanterns of a carriage. By the light which they cast he was
able to distinguish the form of this vehicle. It was a tilbury
harnessed to a small white horse. The noise which he had heard was the
trampling of the horse’s hoofs on the pavement.
“What vehicle is this?” he said to himself. “Who is coming here so
early in the morning?”
At that moment there came a light tap on the door of his chamber.
He shuddered from head to foot, and cried in a terrible voice:—
“Who is there?”
Some one said:—
“I, Monsieur le Maire.”
He recognized the voice of the old woman who was his portress.
“Well!” he replied, “what is it?”
“Monsieur le Maire, it is just five o’clock in the morning.”
“What is that to me?”
“The cabriolet is here, Monsieur le Maire.”
“What cabriolet?”
“The tilbury.”
“What tilbury?”
“Did not Monsieur le Maire order a tilbury?”
“No,” said he.
“The coachman says that he has come for Monsieur le Maire.”
“What coachman?”
“M. Scaufflaire’s coachman.”
“M. Scaufflaire?”
That name sent a shudder over him, as though a flash of lightning had
passed in front of his face.
“Ah! yes,” he resumed; “M. Scaufflaire!”
If the old woman could have seen him at that moment, she would have
been frightened.
A tolerably long silence ensued. He examined the flame of the candle
with a stupid air, and from around the wick he took some of the burning
wax, which he rolled between his fingers. The old woman waited for him.
She even ventured to uplift her voice once more:—
“What am I to say, Monsieur le Maire?”
“Say that it is well, and that I am coming down.”