"True," I replied, shuddering, in spite of myself. "He spoke to me about apparitions." "Quite so. Well, then, my father appeared to me last night. That is why you find me so pallid. The sight of the dead pales the living!" I gazed at him with astonishment, not unmixed with terror. "You saw your father last night, you say?" "Yes." "And he spoke to you?" "He announced my death!" "Oh, it was some terrible dream!" "It was a terrible _reality._" "You were asleep, my friend." "I was wide awake. Do you not believe that a father can appear to his son?" I hung my head, for at the bottom of my heart I _did_ believe in the possibility. "What passed between you?" I asked. "It is a very simple and very natural story. I was reading, expecting my father--for I knew if any danger threatened that he would appear to me--and at midnight the lamp burnt low, the door opened slowly, and my father appeared." "In what form?" I asked. "Just as if he were alive--dressed in his usual manner--only he was very pale, and his eyes were without expression." "Good heavens!" I ejaculated. "He slowly approached my bed. I raised myself with my elbow, and said, 'You are welcome, father.' "He came close, and regarded me fixedly, and it then appeared to me as if some sort of paternal solicitude was expressed in his face." "Go on," I said; "this is terrible!" "Then his lips moved, and, though I could hear no sound, I seemed to hear his words distinctly, though distant as an echo." "What did he say?" "'Think of God, my son!' "'I shall be killed in this duel, then?' I asked. "I saw the tears roll down the pallid visage of the spectre. "'And at what hour?' "He pointed towards the timepiece. I followed the direction of his finger. The clock showed ten minutes past nine. "'So be it, my father,' I said; 'God's will be done. I leave my mother, but I rejoin you.' "Then a faint smile passed over his face, he waved me a sign of farewell and glided away. "The door opened as he advanced towards it, and when he had disappeared it shut of its own accord." This recital was so simply and so naturally told, that it was evident to me the event had occurred just as de Franchi had related it, or he was the victim of an illusion, which he had believed to be real in consequence of the pre-occupation of his mind, and was therefore all the more terrible. I wiped the perspiration from my forehead. "Now," continued Louis; "you know my brother, don't you?" "Yes." "What do you think he will do when he learns that I have been killed in a duel?" "He will leave Sullacaro at once to challenge the man who has killed you." "Just so, and if he is killed in his turn, my mother will be thrice a widow; widowed by the loss of her husband, widowed by the loss of her two sons." "Ah! I understand. This is fearful!"