He was surprised to see himself locking the doors like a child who is overcome with fear.
And yet he had become slightly more composed. He longed to remain in doubt. He tried to doubt still. Might he not have made a mistake, for after all the vision of that man's face under the light of the street lamp was but a momentary one. It was not even a face. A forehead, a pair of eyes, that was all. Was that enough to convince him that he had encountered the Parisian? Surely not. He had to reckon with freaks of resemblance, as well as his own state of mind, ever ready to conjure up dangers and to imagine that they were near.
The Parisian at Nice! No, it was out of the question. The man had been captured and taken back to prison. The newspapers contained a report of the occurrence. And, besides, if the Parisian were at Nice would he not have been occupied in hunting different game from Giselle? Captain d'Haumont would have heard something about him.
Thus his thoughts ran on. Françoise's love, the anxious attentions with which she enveloped him, while they touched his heart also relaxed the tension of his nerves. They were perfectly happy and tranquil; a great peace fell upon them. And he could no longer believe that anything untoward would befall him. He kept quite quiet, took his medicine, allowed himself to be nursed, and--worn out by the new excitement which physically and mentally weighed down upon him--fell asleep.
She listened to his irregular breathing; she watched the painful slumber in which the man beside her lay. Resting on her elbow, she bent over the beloved face, distorted by strange dreams, with an ever-increasing anguish which wrung her heart and almost stifled her.
What frightful visions were passing before those closed eyes and the heaving chest? She had never watched her husband asleep. The sight was terrifying.
And then his face changed so that she did not recognize it, and she was appalled. Deep furrows, which she had never seen before, plowed his forehead and temples and the corners of his mouth. The face which, when it was in repose, was calm and dignified and kept under control by a strong, brave mind, was distorted as if the spirit of fear had taken possession of it at a moment when the sentinel was no longer on guard.