The morning call., 1892-01-03
THE MAN Who Was
HAUNTED BY FEAR.
A Most Singular Story Told by De
MaupaSSant.
An Odd Reason Given for Marrying
ance of Bewildering and Terrifying
vision-In Fauteuil Before Fire
Special for The MORNING CALL

My dear trlenQ, you don understand any
! thing about it-that | can readily see. You
think l have gone crazy. Perhaps l nave a
| little, but not for the reasons you suppose.
| Yes, [ am going to get married. That's
| 1t. And yet my ideas and convictions have
not yet changed. ! consider the legal tie a
| stupidity. And yet l am going to get mar
| ried.
| may add that l scarcely know my wife
| of tomorrow. l have seen her but four or
five times. l know that she does not dis
| please me; that suffices me for what | wish
| to do with her. She is petite, blonde and
fat. Day after tomorrow l shall ardentIy
| sigh for a woman who is tall, dark and
| slender
She is not rich. She belongs to a fair
family. She is a young girl, such as one
finds by the gross, suitable for m arriage.
without apparent qualities and defects, in
the ordinary bOurgeoisie. They say of her:
Mile. Lajolle is very nice" They will
say of her tomorrow: mime. Ramon is
very nice" In short. she belongs to the
legion of honest young girls from whom
one is happy to take his wife until he dis
covers that he prefers any other woman to
her whom he has chosen.
Then why am | going TO get married ? you
ask scarcely dare av0W to you the
strange and improbable reason which urges
me to this mad act. | am going TO get mar
red that | may not be alone. | know not
how to say this-bow to make myself un-
derstood. You will pity and pise me, so
Wretched Is my state OF mind.
AFRAID ALL ALONE.
l don't want to be alone any longer at
night. | want to feel living creature be-
side me- against me, creature who can
speak, say something, no matter what.
want to be able to break her sleep; to sud-
denly put some question to her, a stupid
question In order TO hear Il voice, to feel that
my dwelling is Inhabited, to feel a soul
awake, mind in operation, to see, on sud-
denly lighting my candle, a human face at
my side-because-bec because Ct scarcely dare
avow this shame)-because / am afraid all
alOn3
Oh! you don't understand me yet. I don't
fear danger Should man enter I'd kill
him without a culver. I'm not afraid of
ghosts; l don't believe in the supernatural.
don't fear the dead believe in the detini-
tive humiliation OF each being who disap-
pears.
Then!-yes, then! Well. Pm afraid of
myself! I'm afraid of fear. fear of the
spasms of my terrified mind, fear of that
horrible sensation or incOmprehensible ter
ror.
Laugh If you will It's frightful, incura-
BILE! I'm afraid Of the walls, of the furni-
tuICs VI lilt ldllllIldI ODJtCLS WHICH 10 lllb
grow animated with sort of animal life.
I'm afraid particularly of the horrible
trouble of my thoughts, of my reason which
Is escaping from me embroiied, dispersed
by mysterious and invisible anguish.
At first | feel a vague uneasiness which
passes into my soul and makes a shiver run
over my skin, glance around me. Moth
ing And l would like something! What?
Something comprehensive, since / am
afraid solely because don't understand my
fear
| speak-Pm afraid of my voice. walk
Pm afraid of the unknown behind the
door. behind the curtain. in the wardrobe
and under the bed. And still | know
there's nothing anywhere. l turn suddenly
because I'm afraid of what's behind me-
though there's nothing there and know it
shake myself, feel my fright increase.
shut myself in my chamber, plunge into
my bed, hide myself under the bed-clOtheS
and effaced, rolled up like ball. | close my
eyes desperately and remain thus for an in
finite time with the thought that my candle
is still burning upon my night-table and
that it should be extinguished. But | dare
not do It, Is it not frightful to be thusP
THE TRANQUIL PAST
Formerly l experienced nothing of the
kind. came home TRANQUILITY. | walked
back and forth in my apartment and MOTH
ing troubled the serenity of my soul. If any
one had told me what a disease of unlikely
stupid and terrible fear was one day to seize
upon me, should have laughed outright. |
opened the doors 10 darkness with assur-
ance; | went to bed leisurely without shoot
ing the bolts, and | never got up in the mid
die of the night to assure myself that all the
issues from my chamber we're firmly closed.
All that began last year in singular
fashion. 1t was damp night in autumn.
When my servant went away after dinner
l asked myself what l should do. ! walked
for some time about my chamber. l felt
weary, upset without reason, incapable of
working and without even the strength TO
read. a fine rain was moistening the panes
of glass; | was sad, wholly penetrated by
one of those causeless fits of sorrow which
make you wish to weep, which make you
desire to talk to no matter whom in order
to shake of the heayneSS of your thoughts.
L felt that L was alone; my apartment
seemed to me exempt as it had never been
before. An infinite and crushing solitude
surrounded me- What should do? | sat
down. Then thrill of nervous impatience
ran through my legs. l arose and resumed
walking had perhaps also little fever.
for my hands, which l had clasped behind
my back, as one often does when he walks
slowly, burned one another and noticed it.
Then suddenly cold SILVER ran down ny
dack. l thought that the dampneSs was
getting into my apartment and | conceived
The idea of making fire. | lighted one; it
was the first time that year. Aud l sat
down again, gazing at the flames. But
soon the impoSsibiity of remaining in one
place made ME arise once more and felt
that must 60 away, pull myself together,
find friend.
OUT IN THE STREET.
went out; visited three comrades who
were not at home; then l reached the
boulevard, resolved to discover somebody |
knew. II was gloomy everywhere. The
wet sidewalks shOne. A warmth of water
one Of those warmths which freezes you
with sudden shiVers- a heavy warmth of
impal pable raln-0VerWnelmed the street;
seemed 70 weary and dim the fame of the
gas. l went along with a slow step. repeat
ing to myself, II shall find no one with
whom to tails"
| several times looked into the cafes from
the Madeleine to the Faubourg Poisson
Mere. The gloomy people seated at the ia
bles did not appear to have even the strength
to finish consuming what they had ordered.
/ wandered long while in this way, and
toward midnight started for home. | was
very calm, but greatly fatigued, My con-
cierge, who goes to bed before II o'clock,
opened the door for me Immediately, con-
trary to his custom, and l thought. "Ah!
another tenant has without doubt just gone
upstairs"
When l quit my apartment always care
fully lock my door found it merely shut
ami this struck me- | supposed that letters
had been sent up for me during the even
ing. | entered My fire was still burning
and lighted the apartment little. | picked
up a candle to light it az the fire, when,
casting my eyes in front of me, saw some
one sitting in my fauteuil and warming his
feet with his back turned toward me.
| was not afraid, oh, not the least in the
world A very probable suppOsition crossed
my brain-that one of my friends had called
to see me. The concierge notified by me
when l went out, had said that l would re-
turn and had lent his key. And all the cir
cumstances OF my return came back TO my
mind in secOnd-the bell answered imme-
diately, my door simply closed.
THE SLEEPING MAN
My friend. whose hair only / saw, had
fallen asleep before my fire while waiting
for me and l advanced to awaken him.
| saw him DprfPcklV ona af arms