Two strokes of the bell, the signal of an important visitor, from Fritz told him that the vision was realised.
He led Lorenza into the room hung with fur and armor.
“You will not go away from here?” asked the mesmerist.
“Order me to stay and you will find me here on your return. Besides, the Lorenza who loves you is not the one who dreads you.”
“Be it so, my beloved Lorenza; sleep and await me.”
Still struggling with the spell, she laid a last kiss on her husband’s lips, and tottered to sink upon a lounge, murmuring.
“Soon again, my Balsamo, soon?”
He waved his hand: she was already reposing.
As he closed the door he thought he heard a sound: but no, Lorenza was sound asleep. He went through the parlor without fear or any foreshadowing, carrying paradise in his heart.
Lorenza dreamed: it seemed to her that the ceiling opened and that a kind of aged Caliban descended with a regular movement. The air seemed to fail her as two long fleshless arms like living grapnels clutched her white dress, raised her off the divan, and carried her to the trap. This movable platform began to rise, with the grinding of metal and a shrill, hideous laugh issued from the mouth of this human-faced monster who bore her upwards without any shock.