He pointed to the young man lying lifeless on the bed. "Yes," said the doctor. "The breathing is becoming normal. But it was a big risk to run . . . the carotid artery might have . . ." "Nothing venture, nothing have. . . . How soon will he recover consciousness?" "In a few minutes." "Very well. Oh, by the way, don't go yet, Doctor. Wait for me downstairs. There is more for you to do." The prince, when he found himself alone, lit a cigarette and puffed at it quietly, sending little blue rings of smoke floating up to the ceiling. A sigh roused him from his thoughts. He went to the bed. The young man was beginning to move; and his chest rose and fell violently, like that of a sleeper under the influence of a nightmare. He put his hands to his throat, as though he felt a pain there; and this action suddenly made him sit up, terrified, panting. . . . Then he saw Sernine in front of him: "You?" he whispered, without understanding. "You? . . ." He gazed at him stupidly, as though he had seen a ghost. He again touched his throat, felt round his neck. . . . And suddenly he gave a hoarse cry; a mad terror dilated his eyes, made his hair stand on end, shook him from head to foot like an aspen-leaf! The prince had moved aside; and he saw the man's corpse hanging from the rope. He flung himself back against the wall. That man, that hanged man, was himself! He was dead and he was looking at his own dead body! Was this a hideous dream that follows upon death? A hallucination that comes to those who are no more and whose distracted brain still quivers with a last flickering gleam of life? . . . His arms struck at the air. For a moment, he seemed to be defending himself against the squalid vision. Then, exhausted, he fainted away for the second time. "First-rate," said the prince, with a grin. "A sensitive, impressionable nature. . . . At present, the brain is out of gear. . . . Come, this is a propitious moment. . . . But, if I don't get the business done in twenty minutes . . . he'll escape me. . . ." He pushed open the door between the two garrets, came back to the bed, lifted the young man and carried him to the bed in the other room. Then he bathed his temples with cold water and made him sniff at some salts. This time, the swoon did not last long. Gérard timidly opened his eyes and raised them to the ceiling. The vision was gone. But the arrangement of the furniture, the position of the table and the fireplace, and certain other details all surprised him . . . And then came the remembrance of his act, the pain which he felt at his throat. . . . He said to the prince: "I have had a dream, have I not?" "No." "How do you mean, no?" And, suddenly recollecting, "Oh, that's true, I remember. . . . I meant to kill myself . . . and I even . . ." Bending forward anxiously, "But the rest, the vision . . ." "What vision?" "The man . . . the rope . . . was that a dream? . . ." "No," said Sernine. "That also was real."