Page:Poet Lore, volume 4, 1892.djvu/659

 The voice sounded hollow; I could hardly hear the last words, for I lost consciousness.

Any one who has fallen asleep at an open window in autumn, and awakens suddenly, knows the peculiar sensation of chilliness which accompanies the awakening. A like chill thrilled me when I noticed the glimmering dawn, the faint rays pouring through the half-open window into my lone room.

I looked around in surprise, and my first thought was, Was it reality, a delusion, or a dream? But my senses were so dull that they could not answer the question. I remember only that it occurred to me at once that Dr. Sperlich, who announced the death of my friend in the Kinskýs’ villa, had been dead for years, and that in the castle itself there never were any such corridors as those through which I had wandered. I remember, too, that I was sitting at my desk, on which an astronomical book lay open that I must have been reading before I fell asleep.

I recall no more. I became unconscious again. I did not wake up for some time. Then I lay on my bed, and my dear old mother was kneeling by me. I opened my eyes, and looked into her sincere, wrinkled face, and a feeling of inexpressible bliss thrilled my soul.

“Oh, my dear child, what were you doing? They ran for me and told me you were unconscious; this is the third day.”

“The third day?”

“The third,” my mother repeated. “The physician came here several times every day, and advised rest and quiet. He said something about signs of—insanity.”

A clear thought flashed through my clouded mind. I shivered. “And he said you must stop your studies for some time.” My mother rose and lightly kissed my brow.

I followed the doctor’s advice, and stopped studying for some time; but the haunting thoughts return now after years. Translated by Josef Jiří Král.