Low; heavy; regular.
God! it is—it is the breath of a living creature! A living creature here—close to me—alone with me!
The numbness of terror conquers me. I can neither stir nor speak. Only my whole soul strains at my ears to listen.
Where does the sound come from?
Close behind me—close.
Ah-h!
It is from there—from the bed where I was lying a moment ago!...
I try to shriek, but the sound gurgles unuttered in my throat. I clutch the stone mullions of the window, and press myself against the panes. If I could but throw myself out—anywhere, anywhere—away from that dreadful sound—from that thing close behind me in the bed! But I can do nothing. The wind has broken forth again now; the storm crashes round me. And still through it all I hear the ghastly breathing—even, low, scarcely audible—but I hear it. I shall hear it as long as I live!...
Is the thing moving?
Is it coming nearer?