His eyes
have disappeared in the light, but HE may be there still."
And he rose, hunted about, went round the room. He looked
under his bed, like a child. Then he thought himself absurd,
got into bed again and blew out the candle. The eyes reappeared.
He sat up and stared back at them with all the courage he possessed.
Then he cried:
"Is that you, Erik? Man, genius, or ghost, is it you?"
He reflected: "If it's he, he's on the balcony!"
Then he ran to the chest of drawers and groped for his revolver.
He opened the balcony window, looked out, saw nothing and closed
the window again. He went back to bed, shivering, for the night
was cold, and put the revolver on the table within his reach.
The eyes were still there, at the foot of the bed. Were they
between the bed and the window-pane or behind the pane, that is
to say, on the balcony? That was what Raoul wanted to know.
He also wanted to know if those eyes belonged to a human being.
...He wanted to know everything. Then, patiently, calmly, he seized
his revolver and took aim. He aimed a little above the two eyes.
Surely, if they were eyes and if above those two eyes there was
a forehead and if Raoul was not too clumsy.
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