He might be angry at being recalled, and possibly carry me off, soul and all. I turned and tossed about restlessly in my bed, and kicked the bed-clothes on to the floor. The cold grey dawn broke in at my window. I thought I would get up, so, giving one desperate spring, I found myself upon my feet. My tongue was parched, and a cold sweat matted my hair. I felt a prodigious thirst, and emptied a whole water-bottle; then I proceeded to dress, but I soon found that to shave was an utter impossibility. My hand shook as with the palsy, so I abandoned the attempt. Unshaven, unkempt, and negligently dressed, with haggard look and listless steps, I sauntered about the lonely corridors of the mansion like a restless spirit, until I heard the footsteps of Mrs. Wharton about the house. I started at the slightest noise. I was soon accosted by that worthy, who, of course, wanted to know how I had slept. "I passed an indifferent night," I replied. "I foolishly took some opium to make me sleep, and it has given me the headache. By the by,"--I said, to change the conversation, so as to avoid being questioned, for I saw the old lady was scanning my countenance--"by the by, where did you say the Baron was staying? If not too far off, I should like to call upon him; a walk might do me good." "About five miles off, sir, in the next village, at the sign of 'The Swan,'" said the housekeeper; "as straight as ever you can go, sir, you can't miss it." "Thank you," said I. "Poor, poor, gentleman," I heard the housekeeper mutter to herself, as I started off, "I knew he would suffer." I set off at a brisk pace; the sun had just risen, a silver mist was rising, and a gentle breeze somewhat alleviated the fever of my burning brow, but my legs felt weak. I tottered on for half-a-mile further; here I found a mile-stone and sat down to rest upon it. My reflections were gloomy. My recollections of the previous night were painfully vivid. My dream, my vision, my spiritual visitation, or whatever you like to call it, did not vanish upon waking, like an ordinary dream, but remained deeply rooted in my brain with fearful accuracy of detail. I recollected word for word all the monster had uttered; recalled his tone of voice, his remarkable shape--that curious and hideous blending of the characteristics of the flea with the human form, the revolting, fiendish ugliness of the _tout ensemble_, but above all, of that basilisk eye. My blood ran cold as I thought of it.