He had confided to me that he was thinking of assuming my shape, in order to be loved in my place. His eagerness to save my mutilated body; the method he had explained in the note-book, and the business of the poplar--all coordinated themselves in my mind. His fainting-fits assumed all the appearance of experiments, in which Lerne, through a sort of hypnotism, flung his soul into other beings. So now with his eye to the keyhole he watched every move I made, transfusing his _ego_ into my brain, using the power which his unfinished discovery procured him, to put in practice the most astounding substitution of personalities. I shall be told that this very appearance of unlikeliness ought to have weakened the value of my reasoning; but at Fonval, incoherence being the rule, the more absurd an explanation was, the more likely it was to be the right one. Ah! that eye at the keyhole. It pursued me like that of Jehovah blasting Cain from the top of its triangular peephole! I was never free of it. Emma felt my distress, but she was far from understanding the real cause of it. Although I am joking now, I had perceived my danger, and my one thought was how to avert it. After long deliberation, I determined to take the only reasonable course--one which I should have taken long before, viz., departure. Departure with Emma, of course, for now nothing in the world would have made me leave to my uncle what I had won. But Emma was not one of those women whom one can carry off against her will. Would she consent to leave Lerne, and the promised wealth? Assuredly not! The poor girl did not see this modernized form of fairy-tale going on around her. The glories to come completely occupied her mind. She was both silly and avaricious. To make her follow me I should have to make her believe that she would not be worse off by a penny, and it was only Lerne who could reassure her effectively on that score. So, what I required was the Professor’s consent! Certainly there could be no question of any consent except of one sort; only one wrested from him by constant intimidation would serve the purpose. I would make play with Macbeth’s murder, and Klotz’s assassination, and my terrified uncle would speak to Emma as I wanted him to, and I should carry her off, no doubt depriving Mr. Nicolas Vermont of an inheritance (very much eaten into), and Mlle. Bourdichet of (probably quite chimerical) splendors. My plan was soon arranged in detail. CHAPTER XIV DEATH AND THE MASK But this plan was never carried out. Not that I hesitated to put it into action--I was always determined upon it, and any doubt that came to me about the existence of the danger to be avoided, arose only when all chance of realizing my projects had passed. As long as they were still possible, on the contrary, I awaited with patience the opportunity of accomplishing them, and I will even admit that my growing terror ceaselessly urged me to have done with it all.