“I? She told you that? Yes, yes, I know she treats her little friend as if he were a great coward! Sing the duo with her, I am not afraid of the green ladies, I do not believe in them; but there is certainly one thing that alarms me, it is having seen them.” “How then do you reconcile such contradictory assertions?” “Nothing more simple, either there are ghosts or there are none. I myself have seen them, and I have paid the penalty for knowing that they exist. Only I do not consider them malicious, I am not afraid of their injuring me, I was not born a coward, but I mistrust my brain which is composed of saltpetre. I know that shadows have no more power over bodies than bodies have over shadows, since I have held the sleeve of one of these young ladies without discovering any kind of arm. From that moment, which I shall never forget; and which has changed all my ideas about the things of this world and of the next, I have sworn to myself that never again would I put human weakness to such a test. I am not at all desirous of losing my reason. So much the worse for me if I have not sufficient moral strength to coolly and philosophically contemplate what passes my understanding; but why should I deceive myself? I began by trifling with myself, and laughingly summoned the ghost. The ghost appeared.—_Bonjour!_ Once is enough for me, you won’t catch me in it another time.” One can readily imagine that I was strongly impressed by what I had heard. The abbé’s faith was evident. He did not believe that he was the victim of a mania. Since the emotions he had experienced in “_la chambre aux dames_,” he had never again dreamed of them. He added that he was convinced that they would have done him no kind of harm or injury, had he possessed sufficient courage to examine them. “But I did not,” he observed, “for I almost lost consciousness, and realizing my weakness, I said: “Whoever wishes to do so may penetrate this mystery, I will not assume the charge, I am not equal to such a task.” I questioned the abbé carefully. His vision had been almost exactly like my own. I made a great effort not to let him suspect the similarity of our adventures. I knew he was too much of a gossip to preserve the secret inviolate, and I feared Madame d’Ionis’ sarcasms more than all the demons of the night; so I assumed an air of ignorance while the abbé questioned me, assuring him that nothing had disturbed my sleep; and when the moment arrived at eleven o’clock in the evening, to re-enter this fatal room, I laughingly promised the dowager to keep a secret account of my dreams, and took leave of the company with an air of gayety and valor.