to issue orders, not to answer questions; and so saying he departed. However extraordinary these injunctions appeared, the manner in which they were issued was so imposing, peremptory, and _habitual_,--it seemed so little a thing of local contrivance and temporary display,--so much like the established language of an absolute and long-fixed system, that obedience to it seemed inevitable. I threw myself on the bed, and murmured to myself, “Where am I?” till sleep overcame me. (8) This is a fact well established. “I have heard that the first sleep of a recovered maniac is intensely profound. Mine was not so, it was broken by many troubled dreams. One, in particular, brought me back to the convent. I thought I was a boarder in it, and studying Virgil. I was reading that passage in the second book, where the vision of Hector appears to Æneas in his dream, and his ghastly and dishonoured form suggests the mournful exclamation, “----Heu quantum mutatus ab illo,-- ----Quibus ab oris, Hector expectate venis?” Then I thought Juan was Hector,--that the same pale and bloody phantom stood calling me to fly--“Heu fuge,” while I vainly tried to obey him. Oh that dreary mixture of truth and delirium, of the real and visionary, of the conscious and unconscious parts of existence, that visits the dreams of the unhappy! He was Pantheus, and murmured, “Venit summa dies, et ineluctabile tempus.” I appeared to weep and struggle in my dream. I addressed the figure that stood before me sometimes as Juan, and sometimes as the image of the Trojan vision. At last the figure uttered, with a kind of querulous shriek,--that _vox stridula_ which we hear only in dreams, “Proximus ardet Ucalegon,” and I started up fully awake, in all the horrors of an expected conflagration.