Of late years people have made quite a study of the phenomena of hallucinations; they have been observed and classified. Scientific men have experimented upon themselves. I have even seen delicate and nervous women often act as spiritual mediums not without suffering, but without fear, and giving a thorough account of this state of delusion in which they had been. In my youth, they were not so far advanced, there was no medium between the absolute denial of all visions and a blind belief in apparitions. They laughed at those who were tormented by these visions that were attributed to credulity and fear, and only excused in cases of serious illness. So during this terrible watch, I reprimanded myself severely and unjustly for my weakness of mind, without ever once thinking of attributing it all to the effect of a bad digestion or atmospherical influence. Such an idea would have been entertained with difficulty as with the exception of a little fatigue and bad humor I did not feel in the least ill. Thoroughly resolved to boast of my adventure to no one, I retired and slept very well until Baptiste knocked at my door to inform me that breakfast would soon be ready. I admitted him after having thoroughly convinced myself that my door had remained bolted, as I had previously assured myself before going to sleep; I had observed, and I again noticed that the other door of my apartment was in a like condition. I counted the large screws which secured the tiles of the fire-place. I sought in vain for the slightest indication of a secret door. Besides, of what use would it be, said I to myself, whilst Baptiste was powdering my hair; have I not seen an object without substance, a robe, or a shroud which vanished beneath my touch? Without this conclusive circumstance, I might have attributed it all to a joke of Madame d’Ionis, as I learned from Baptiste that she had returned the evening before towards midnight. This news snatched me from my preoccupation. I bestowed particular pains upon my _coiffure_ and my toilet, and was a little vexed that the nature of my profession condemned me to wear black; but my mother had supplied me with such fine linen and such well cut coats that I considered myself on the whole, very presentable. I was neither ill-looking or badly formed. I resembled my mother, who had been very beautiful, and without being foppish, I was accustomed to remark the general approval that a pleasing countenance produces. Madame d’Ionis was in the _salon_ when I entered. I beheld a bewitching woman indeed; but much too small to have figured in my trio of spectres. Neither was there anything fantastical or diaphanous about her. Hers was a realistic beauty, fresh, gay, lively, expressing gracefully, what was designed in the style of the period, an amiable embonpoint, discussing every subject clearly and sensibly, and revealing great energy of character combined with singular sweetness of manner.