He paced the chamber up and down in silence. At length he stopped, and the bed attracted his attention. The curtain of the recess was but half-drawn. He sighed involuntarily.

“That bed,” said he in a low voice, “That bed was Elvira’s! There has she passed many a quiet night, for she was good and innocent. How sound must have been her sleep! And yet now she sleeps sounder! Does she indeed sleep? Oh! God grant that she may! What if she rose from her grave at this sad and silent hour? What if she broke the bonds of the tomb, and glided angrily before my blasted eyes? Oh! I never could support the sight! Again to see her form distorted by dying agonies, her blood-swollen veins, her livid countenance, her eyes bursting from their sockets with pain! To hear her speak of future punishment, menace me with heaven’s vengeance, tax me with the crimes I have committed, with those I am going to commit.⁠ ⁠… Great God! What is that?”