`She told me that his eyes only showed in the dark. His eyes have disappeared in the light, but he may be there still.'

And he rose, hunted about, went round the room. He looked under his bed, like a child. Then he thought himself absurd, got into bed again and blew out the candle. The eyes reappeared.

He sat up and stared back at them with all the courage he possessed. Then he cried:

`Is that you, Erik? Man, genius, or ghost, is it you?'

He reflected: `If it's he, he's on the balcony!'

Then he ran to the chest of drawers and groped for his revolver. He opened the balcony window, looked out, saw nothing and closed the window again. He went back to bed, shivering, for the night was cold, and put the revolver on the table within his reach.

The eyes were still there, at the foot of the bed. Were they between the bed and the window-pane or behind the pane, that is to say, on the balcony? That was what Raoul wanted to know. He also wanted to know if those eyes belonged to a human being....He wanted to know everything. Then, patiently, calmly, he seized his revolver and took aim. He aimed a little above the two eyes. Surely, if they were eyes and if above those two eyes there was a forehead and if Raoul was not too clumsy...

The shot made a terrible din amid the silence of the slumbering house. And, while footsteps came hurrying along the passages, Raoul sat up with outstretched arm, ready to fire again, if need be.

This time, the two eyes had disappeared.

Servants appeared, carrying lights; Count Philippe, terribly anxious:

`What is it?'

`I think I have been dreaming,' replied the young man. `I fired at two stars that kept me from sleeping.'

`You're raving! Are you ill? For God's sake, tell me, Raoul: what happened?'

And the count seized hold of the revolver.

`No, no, I'm not raving... Besides, we shall soon see...'

He got out of bed, put on a dressing-gown and slippers, took a light from the hands of a servant and, opening the window, stepped out on the balcony.

The count saw that the window had been pierced by a bullet at a man's height. Raoul was leaning over the balcony with his candle: `Aha!' he said. `Blood!...Blood!..... Here, there, more blood! ... That's a good thing! A ghost who bleeds is less dangerous!' he grinned.

`Raoul! Raoul! Raoul!'

The count was shaking him as though he were trying to waken a sleep-walker.

`But, my dear brother, I'm not asleep!' Raoul protested impatiently. `You can see the blood for yourself. I thought I had been dreaming and firing at two stars. It was Erik's eyes...and here is his blood!...After all, perhaps I was wrong to shoot; and Christine is quite capable of never forgiving me....All this would not have happened if I had drawn the curtains before going to bed.'

`Raoul, have you suddenly gone mad? Wake up!'