The potion really did me a great deal of good, for I again fell asleep and dreamed of my immortal nymph. When I opened my eyes, I saw an apparition at the foot of my bed, which would have charmed me two nights ago, but which now vexed me like an importunate reproach. It was Madame d’Ionis, who came herself to see how I was, and to give her personal supervision to the efforts made in my behalf. She was very friendly, and showed real interest in me. I thanked her to the best of my ability and assured her that I was very well. Upon this, appeared the solemn head of a physician, who examined my pulse and my tongue, prescribed rest, and said to Madame d’Ionis: “It is nothing. Keep him from reading, writing and talking until to-morrow and he will then be able to return to his family.” Left alone with Baptiste, I questioned him. “_Mon Dieu_, Monsieur,” said he, “I don’t exactly know what to say. It seems that the room where you were is considered haunted.” “The room where I was? Where then am I now?” I looked around me and recovering from my stupor I at last recognized that I was not in “_la chambre aux dames_,” but in another apartment of the chateau. “As for me,” continued Baptiste, who was of a very positive temperament. “I slept in the room and saw nothing. I don’t believe any of these stories. But, when I heard you tormenting yourself during your fever, always talking about a beautiful lady who exists and who does not exist, who is dead and who lives—who knows what you haven’t said about it. It was all so pretty sometimes that I wished to remember it, or that I knew how to write it down, in order to preserve it, but it did you harm, and I decided upon bringing you here, where you are better off. Don’t you see, Monsieur, that this all comes from writing too many verses? Your father said rightly that it would turn your brain! You would do better to think only of your law papers.” “Thou art certainly right, my dear Baptiste,” I answered “and I will try and take thine advice. In fact it does seem as if I had had an attack of madness.” “Of madness? Oh! no indeed, Monsieur. _Dieu merci_. You have wandered a little in your fever just as it might happen to anyone; but now that it is all over, if you will take a little chicken broth, your brain will be as clear as ever.” I resigned myself to the chicken broth, although I would have preferred something more nourishing so as to get well quickly. I was very weak, but little by little my strength came back during the day, and I was allowed a light supper. The following day, Madame d’Ionis came again to see me. I had risen and was feeling quite well. I talked very sensibly with her about what had happened, without however giving her any details upon the subject. I had been light-headed, I was much ashamed of it, and begged her to keep my secret; my position as a lawyer would be lost if I acquired the reputation of a ghost seer; and it would affect my father seriously.