"You see, sir," said the confectioner, after the departure of his customer, "this is the factotum of count S, and the guardian of the deserted house. I give him notice from time to time to quit his nightly disturbances; but he has a reply to everything; he is awaiting, he says, his master's family, and that for so many years, that I am led to believe that they will never arrive. I know nothing more about it, and I have the honor to salute you, for this is the time that the fine ladies besiege my store, and dispute about the sweets that I invent every day for their pretty little mouths."
On leaving the confectioner I sought, in my own mind, for some natural connection between the sad and singular song which had been heard from the deserted house, and the beautiful arm that I had caught sight of under the curtain, and I persuaded myself that, by an acoustic illusion, the confectioner had taken for the squalling of an old woman, the mild, but plaintive song of a beautiful creature, persecuted and held captive by some odious tyrant. I thought again of the disagreeable smoke that came from the funnel, of the crystal flask that had figured on the window sill, and I came to a conclusion, without farther reflection, that the beautiful unknown who had existed in my imagination, was the victim of an abominable sorcery. The old servant changed in my eyes into a disagreeable magician; my brain became exalted, and diabolical figures besieged my waking hours. By unutterable enchantment, the alabaster arm became united in my thoughts with a snowy shoulder that my eyes really perceived; then the adorable figure of a young girl veiled in white joined itself to this kind of hallucination, and it seemed to me that silvery mist, which half concealed from me the features of this beautiful angel, escaped in endless clouds from the crystal flask. To form, for the deliverance of this celestial being, the most extravagant projects, was for my delirious thoughts the work of a moment; and I uttered aloud the most chivalric exclamations, when it seemed to me that a skeleton hand patted me on the shoulder, broke into a thousand pieces the crystal flask, and the apparition vanished, leaving behind it the dying echo of a mournful plaint.
The following day, I went early and posted myself in front of the deserted house. Blinds had been added to the windows since the night before. The house looked like a tomb. I rambled about in the vicinity the whole of that day; when night came I passed by it again; the little door without lock was half open, the man in the coffee colored coat was looking
