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I said aloud, and my own voice frightened me. That! what? I could not have answered, and yet I felt myself borne down by the expectation of some horrible disaster, 'This must be a presentiment,' I thought; and I remembered the death of the marshal whose heroic bronze face I had so often gazed at. This recollection of an actual fact gave a character of absolute reality to my fears. I was as much overcome with horror as if the thing dreaded were there before me. 'But what can I do? what can I do?' I kept saying in despair. By the light of my candle I looked at the piece of gold for the first time. It was a coin of the Republic of 1848, and was marked with a cross, which some gambler may have traced there with the point of a penknife. With my nerves all unstrung as they were, this cabalistic sign struck me with a sudden superstitious terror, the agony of which I can recall at this moment. Probably these ideas suggested the church to me. I saw the dog and the chain, the eyelids of the blind man, the hat held out; an idea, an irresistible idea, took possession of me. I must, at any risk, undo what I had done, and that very night, too. I must, I must go back to the church and put the gold-piece in the beggar's hat. A crazy resolution of course, but one that it was possible to carry out. I never for a moment thought of asking my nurse to do it for me; I should have had to explain to her, and death was preferable