A Ghost

by Guy de Maupassant

　　We were speaking of sequestration, alluding to a recent lawsuit. It wasat the close of a friendly evening in a very old mansion in the Rue deGrenelle, and each of the guests had a story to tell, which he assuredus was true.Then the old Marquis de la Tour-Samuel, eighty-two years of age, roseand came forward to lean on the mantelpiece. He told the following storyin his slightly quavering voice."I, also, have witnessed a strange thing--so strange that it has beenthe nightmare of my life. It happened fifty-six years ago, and yet thereis not a month when I do not see it again in my dreams. From that day Ihave borne a mark, a stamp of fear,--do you understand?"Yes, for ten minutes I was a prey to terror, in such a way that eversince a constant dread has remained in my soul. Unexpected sounds chillme to the heart; objects which I can ill distinguish in the eveningshadows make me long to flee. I am afraid at night."No! I would not have owned such a thing before reaching my presentage. But now I may tell everything. One may fear imaginary dangers ateighty-two years old. But before actual danger I have never turned back,_mesdames_."That affair so upset my mind, filled me with such a deep, mysteriousunrest that I never could tell it. I kept it in that inmost part, thatcorner where we conceal our sad, our shameful secrets, all theweaknesses of our life which cannot be confessed."I will tell you that strange happening just as it took place, with noattempt to explain it. Unless I went mad for one short hour it must beexplainable, though. Yet I was not mad, and I will prove it to you.Imagine what you will. Here are the simple facts:"It was in 1827, in July. I was quartered with my regiment in Rouen."One day, as I was strolling on the quay, I came across a man I believedI recognized, though I could not place him with certainty. Iinstinctively went more slowly, ready to pause. The stranger saw myimpulse, looked at me, and fell into my arms."It was a friend of my younger days, of whom I had been very fond. Heseemed to have become half a century older in the five years since I hadseen him. His hair was white, and he stooped in his walk, as if he wereexhausted. He understood my amazement and told me the story of his life."A terrible event had broken him down. He had fallen madly in love witha young girl and married her in a kind of dreamlike ecstasy. After ayear of unalloyed bliss and unexhausted passion, she had died suddenlyof heart disease, no doubt killed by love itself."He had left the country on the very day of her funeral, and had come tolive in his hotel at Rouen. He remained there, solitary and desperate,grief slowly mining him, so wretched that he constantly thought ofsuicide."'As I thus came across you again,' he said, 'I shall ask a great favorof you. I want you to go to my chteau and get some papers I urgentlyneed. They are in the writing-desk of my room, of _our_ room. I cannotsend a servant or a lawyer, as the errand must be kept private. I wantabsolute silence."'I shall give you the key of the room, which I locked carefully myselfbefore leaving, and the key to the writing-desk. I shall also give you anote for the gardener, who will let you in."'Come to breakfast with me to-morrow, and we'll talk the matter over.'"I promised to render him that slight service. It would mean but apleasant excursion for me, his home not being more than twenty-fivemiles from Rouen. I could go there in an hour on horseback."At ten o'clock the next day I was with him. We breakfasted alonetogether, yet he did not utter more than twenty words. He asked me toexcuse him. The thought that I was going to visit the room where hishappiness lay shattered, upset him, he said. Indeed, he seemedperturbed, worried, as if some mysterious struggle were taking place inhis soul."At last he explained exactly what I was to do. It was very simple. Iwas to take two packages of letters and some papers, locked in the firstdrawer at the right of the desk of which I had the key. He added:"'I need not ask you not to glance at them.'"I was almost hurt by his words, and told him so, rather sharply. Hestammered:"'Forgive me. I suffer so much!'"And tears came to his eyes."I left about one o'clock to accomplish my errand."The day was radiant, and I rushed through the meadows, listening to thesong of the larks, and the rhythmical beat of my sword on myriding-boots."Then I entered the forest, and I set my horse to walking. Branches ofthe trees softly caressed my face, and now and then I would catch a leafbetween my teeth and bite it with avidity, full of the joy of life, suchas fills you without reason, with a tumultuous happiness almostindefinable, a kind of magical strength."As I neared the house I took out the letter for the gardener, and notedwith surprise that it was sealed. I was so amazed and so annoyed that Ialmost turned back without fulfilling my mission. Then I thought that Ishould thus display over-sensitiveness and bad taste. My friend mighthave sealed it unconsciously, worried as he was."The manor looked as though it had been deserted the last twenty years.The gate, wide-open and rotten, held, one wondered how. Grass filled thepaths; you could not tell the flower-beds from the lawn."At the noise I made kicking a shutter, an old man came out from aside-door and was apparently amazed to see me there. I dismounted frommy horse and gave him the letter. He read it once or twice, turned itover, looked at me with suspicion, and asked:"'Well, what do you want?'"I answered sharply:"'You must know it as you have read your master's orders. I want to getin the house.'"He appeared overwhelmed. He said:"'So--you are going in--in his room?'"I was getting impatient."'_Parbleu!_ Do you intend to question me, by chance?'"He stammered:"'No--monsieur--only--it has not been opened since--since the death. Ifyou will wait five minutes, I will go in to see whether----'"I interrupted angrily:"'See here, are you joking? You can't go in that room, as I have thekey!'"He no longer knew what to say."'Then, monsieur, I will show you the way.'"'Show me the stairs and leave me alone. I can find it without yourhelp.'"'But--still--monsieur----'"Then I lost my temper."'Now be quiet! Else you'll be sorry!'"I roughly pushed him aside and went into the house."I first went through the kitchen, then crossed two small rooms occupiedby the man and his wife. From there I stepped into a large hall. I wentup the stairs, and I recognized the door my friend had described to me."I opened it with ease and went in."The room was so dark that at first I could not distinguish anything. Ipaused, arrested by that moldy and stale odor peculiar to deserted andcondemned rooms, of dead rooms. Then gradually my eyes grew accustomedto the gloom, and I saw rather clearly a great room in disorder, a bedwithout sheets having still its mattresses and pillows, one of whichbore the deep print of an elbow or a head, as if someone had just beenresting on it."The chairs seemed all in confusion. I noticed that a door, probablythat of a closet, had remained ajar."I first went to the window and opened it to get some light, but thehinges of the outside shutters were so rusted that I could not loosenthem."I even tried to break them with my sword, but did not succeed. As thosefruitless attempts irritated me, and as my eyes were by now adjusted tothe dim light, I gave up hope of getting more light and went toward thewriting-desk."I sat down in an arm-chair, folded back the top, and opened the drawer.It was full to the edge. I needed but three packages, which I knew howto distinguish, and I started looking for them."I was straining my eyes to decipher the inscriptions, when I thought Iheard, or rather felt a rustle behind me. I took no notice, thinking adraft had lifted some curtain. But a minute later, another movement,almost indistinct, sent a disagreeable little shiver over my skin. Itwas so ridiculous to be moved thus even so slightly, that I would notturn round, being ashamed. I had just discovered the second package Ineeded, and was on the point of reaching for the third, when a great andsorrowful sigh, close to my shoulder, made me give a mad leap two yardsaway. In my spring I had turned round, my hand on the hilt of my sword,and surely had I not felt that, I should have fled like a coward."A tall woman, dressed in white, was facing me, standing behind thechair in which I had sat a second before."Such a shudder ran through me that I almost fell back! Oh, no one whohas not felt them can understand those gruesome and ridiculous terrors!The soul melts; your heart seems to stop; your whole body becomes limpas a sponge, and your innermost parts seem collapsing."I do not believe in ghosts; and yet I broke down before the hideousfear of the dead; and I suffered, oh, I suffered more in a few minutes,in the irresistible anguish of supernatural dread, than I have sufferedin all the rest of my life!"If she had not spoken, I might have died. But she did speak; she spokein a soft and plaintive voice which set my nerves vibrating. I could notsay that I regained my self-control. No, I was past knowing what I did;but the kind of pride I have in me, as well as a military pride, helpedme to maintain, almost in spite of myself, an honorable countenance. Iwas making a pose, a pose for myself, and for her, for her, whatever shewas, woman, or phantom. I realized this later, for at the time of theapparition, I could think of nothing. I was afraid."She said:"'Oh, you can be of great help to me, monsieur!'"I tried to answer, but I was unable to utter one word. A vague soundcame from my throat."She continued:"'Will you? You can save me, cure me. I suffer terribly. I alwayssuffer. I suffer, oh, I suffer!'"And she sat down gently in my chair. She looked at me."'Will you?'"I nodded my head, being still paralyzed."Then she handed me a woman's comb of tortoise-shell, and murmured:"'Comb my hair! Oh, comb my hair! That will cure me. Look at myhead--how I suffer! And my hair--how it hurts!'"Her loose hair, very long, very black, it seemed to me, hung over theback of the chair, touching the floor."Why did I do it? Why did I, shivering, accept that comb, and why did Itake between my hands her long hair, which left on my skin a ghastlyimpression of cold, as if I had handled serpents? I do not know."That feeling still clings about my fingers, and I shiver when I recallit."I combed her, I handled, I know not how, that hair of ice. I bound andunbound it; I plaited it as one plaits a horse's mane. She sighed, benther head, seemed happy."Suddenly she said, 'Thank you!' tore the comb from my hands, and fledthrough the door which I had noticed was half opened."Left alone, I had for a few seconds the hazy feeling one feels inwaking up from a nightmare. Then I recovered myself. I ran to the windowand broke the shutters by my furious assault."A stream of light poured in. I rushed to the door through which thatbeing had gone. I found it locked and immovable."Then a fever of flight seized on me, a panic, the true panic of battle.I quickly grasped the three packages of letters from the open desk; Icrossed the room running, I took the steps of the stairway four at atime. I found myself outside, I don't know how, and seeing my horseclose by, I mounted in one leap and left at a full gallop."I didn't stop till I reached Rouen and drew up in front of my house.Having thrown the reins to my orderly, I flew to my room and lockedmyself in to think."Then for an hour I asked myself whether I had not been the victim of anhallucination. Certainly I must have had one of those nervous shocks,one of those brain disorders such as give rise to miracles, to which thesupernatural owes its strength."And I had almost concluded that it was a vision, an illusion of mysenses, when I came near to the window. My eyes by chance looked down.My tunic was covered with hairs, long woman's hairs which had entangledthemselves around the buttons!"I took them off one by one and threw them out of the window withtrembling fingers."I then called my orderly. I felt too perturbed, too moved, to go andsee my friend on that day. Besides, I needed to think over what I shouldtell him."I had his letters delivered to him. He gave a receipt to the soldier.He inquired after me and was told that I was not well. I had had asunstroke, or something. He seemed distressed."I went to see him the next day, early in the morning, bent on tellinghim the truth. He had gone out the evening before and had not comeback."I returned the same day, but he had not been seen. I waited a week. Hedid not come back. I notified the police. They searched for himeverywhere, but no one could find any trace of his passing or of hisretreat."A careful search was made in the deserted manor. No suspicious clue wasdiscovered."There was no sign that a woman had been concealed there."The inquest gave no result, and so the search went no further."And in fifty-six years I have learned nothing more. I never found outthe truth."