“A ring! Monsieur has no rings, I have never seen him wear one.”
“No matter. Let us try to find it.”
He took a knife and scraped the soft stone, to enlarge the crack, removed the ashes and powdered cement which filled it up, and while working thus to please me, he asked me what kind of a ring it was in the same tone he would have asked me what I had been dreaming about.
“It is a gold ring with a star formed of a large emerald,” I replied, with the coolness of certainty.
He no longer doubted, and detaching a rod from the window curtains, he bent it in the form of a hook and reached the ring, which he smilingly presented me. He thought without daring to say so, that it was a gift from Madame d’Ionis. As for myself, I scarcely looked at it, so sure was I that it was the same that I had seen on the finger of the ghost; it was, in fact, exactly like it. I put it on my little finger, never doubting that it belonged to the defunct demoiselle d’Ionis, or that I had seen the ghost of that marvelous beauty.
Baptiste showed a great deal of discretion in his behavior, and when he left me, made me promise to go to bed.
You can readily imagine such was far from my thoughts. I seated myself before the table, from which Baptiste had removed the famous supper of three loaves, and compelling myself to recall the details of my transporting vision, some parts of which I feared I might forget, I began to write a full account thereof, just as you have read it.
I remained in this state of agitation mingled with ecstasy, till the rising of the sun. At times I dozed a little, my elbows on the table, and thought I was again going through my dream; but it ever eluded me, and Baptiste came and dragged me from the solitude in which I would have gladly thenceforth have passed my life.
I arranged it so as to go down stairs, just as they were about to take their places at the table. I had not yet asked myself how I was to give an account of the vision; I thought of it while making believe breakfast, for I ate nothing and without feeling wearied or ill, I experienced an unconquerable disgust for the functions of animal life.
The dowager who did not see very well, was not aware of my trouble. I answered her usual questions with the vagueness of the preceding days, but this time without acting any comedy, and with the preoccupation of a poet when questioned stupidly on the subject of his poem, and who gives evasive and ironical replies to get rid of stultifying investigations. I do not know if Madame d’Ionis was anxious or surprised to see me thus. I did not look at her, I did not even see her. I hardly understood what she was saying to me, during the mortal constraint of this breakfast.