Page:Hoffmann's Strange Stories - Hoffman - 1855.djvu/439

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THE MYSTERY OF THE DESERTED HOUSE.
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"You have a charming pocket mirror there," said a voice quite near me. I awake as if from a dream, and great is my surprise to find myself surrounded by a circle of people with whom I am unacquainted, and who smile upon me in an equivocal manner, as if they were looking upon a madman. Finally the same voice repeats:—"You have a very marvellous mirror there; but might I ask what so strongly draws your attention?"

The individual who addressed this question to me appeared to be a very respectable man, dressed with elegant simplicity; his mild and civil manner provoked my confidence; I could not refrain from avowing to him without reservation all that I felt, and I asked him if he had himself observed this admirable figure.

"Sir," said he to me, "I think that I have good eyes, and God preserve me from using spectacles as long as possible. I have seen, as you have done, the figure of which you speak, but I think that it is a portrait painted in oil and executed by an excellent artist."

I hastily looked again, but the curtain had fallen and covered the window.

"Sir," added the gentleman, "the old servant of count S——, to whom this barrack belongs, has just taken down the portrait to wipe the dust from it, and then shut the window."

"Are you sure of it?" exclaimed I in consternation.

"As of my life," exclaimed he; "on looking at the object in your mirror, you have been misled by an optical illusion; and I myself, when I was of your age and had your ardent imagination, I myself might have been deceived by it."

"But I saw the hand and arm move!" exclaimed I, falling back into a state of petrifaction difficult to describe.

"I cannot contradict you," said the man, with a smile on his face, rising: and, fixing a look of ironical politeness upon me, he left me, adding:—"Beware of mirrors manufactured by the devil. I have the honor to salute you."

Can you understand, dear reader, what I must have suffered at finding myself thus mystified and treated like a foolish visionary? Filled with shame and anger, I hastened to shut myself up in my own house, fully decided upon forgetting the deserted house and my absurd flights of imagination.

Some business that I had to transact occupied several days, and this helped to cool my brain. Only that, during the night, I still felt at intervals, feverish excitement; but I resisted it without much difficulty, and I had even succeeded