de absoluta soledad y, a la vez, de espantosa presencia, pesaba sobre mí, mezclada con una desolación lúgubre y sin esperanza, como la de un amor consumido y una vida sin rumbo. De repente me encontré incorporado. ¡El terror de que una mano helada se posara sobre mí, o un aliento frío soplara en mi nuca, o un rostro cadavérico se inclinara en la oscuridad sobre mí, había roto mis ataduras!—Saldría al encuentro, a mitad de camino, de lo que fuera que se estuviera acercando. En el momento en que mi voluntad se puso en acción, el terror comenzó a menguar.
“The room in which I slept was a large one, perfectly dreary with tidiness. I did not know till afterwards that it was Laetitia’s room, which she had given up to me rather than prepare another. The furniture, all but one article, was modern and commonplace. I could not help remarking to myself afterwards how utterly void the room was of the nameless charm of feminine occupancy. I had seen nothing to wake a suspicion of its being a lady’s room. The article I have excepted was an ancient bureau, elaborate and ornate, which stood on one side of the large bow window. The very morning before, I had seen a bunch of keys hanging from the upper part of it, and had peeped in. Finding however, that the pigeonholes were full of papers, I closed it at once. I should have been glad to use it, but clearly it was not for me. At that bureau the figure of a woman was now seated in the posture of one writing. A strange dim light was around her, but whence it proceeded I never thought of inquiring. As if I, too, had stepped over the bourne, and was a ghost myself, all fear was now gone. I got out of bed, and softly crossed the room to where she was seated. ‘If she should be beautiful!’ I thought—for I had often dreamed of a beautiful ghost that made love to me. The figure did not move. She was looking at a faded brown paper.