It was horrible. In vain did I cry: “Only look at me, my dear madame; I am not what you think me!” She was beside herself with fear; she raved and screamed in such piercing tones that had we not been underground, the whole neighborhood would inevitably have been aroused. In this extremity, consulting only my rage, I overturned her, and gaining the door before her, I slammed it in her face, taking care to slip the bolt. During the struggle the candle had been extinguished and Dame Grédel was left in the dark. Her cries grew fainter and fainter. I stared at Annette, giddy, and with hardly strength enough left to stand. Her agitation equaled mine. We neither of us seemed able to speak, and stood listening to the expiring cries of the mistress, which soon ceased altogether. The poor woman had fainted. “Oh! Kasper,” cried Annette, wringing her hands, “what is to be done? Fly! fly! You may have been heard! Did you kill her?” “Kill her? I?” “I am so glad! But fly! I will open the door for you.” She unbarred it, and I fled into the street, without stopping even to thank her; but I was so terrified and there was not a moment to lose. The night was inky black; not a star in the sky, and the street lamps unlighted. The weather was abominable; it was snowing hard and the wind howled dismally. Not until I had run for a good half-hour did I stop to take breath. You may imagine my horror when looking up I found myself directly opposite the Pied de Mouton Tavern. In my terror I had run around the square a half dozen times for aught I knew. My legs felt like lead and my knees tottered under me.