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- Уилки Коллинз
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In
the
quieter
flow
of
her
thoughts
during
this
interval
,
she
could
ask
herself
the
natural
question
:
—
What
cause
had
awakened
her
so
suddenly
,
and
had
so
strangely
shaken
her
nerves
?
Had
it
been
the
influence
of
a
dream
?
She
had
not
dreamed
at
all
—
or
,
to
speak
more
correctly
,
she
had
no
waking
remembrance
of
having
dreamed
.
The
mystery
was
beyond
her
fathoming
:
the
darkness
began
to
oppress
her
.
She
struck
the
match
on
the
box
,
and
lit
her
candle
.
As
the
welcome
light
diffused
itself
over
the
room
,
she
turned
from
the
table
and
looked
towards
the
other
side
of
the
bed
.
In
the
moment
when
she
turned
,
the
chill
of
a
sudden
terror
gripped
her
round
the
heart
,
as
with
the
clasp
of
an
icy
hand
.
She
was
not
alone
in
her
room
!
There
—
in
the
chair
at
the
bedside
—
there
,
suddenly
revealed
under
the
flow
of
light
from
the
candle
,
was
the
figure
of
a
woman
,
reclining
.
Her
head
lay
back
over
the
chair
.
Her
face
,
turned
up
to
the
ceiling
,
had
the
eyes
closed
,
as
if
she
was
wrapped
in
a
deep
sleep
.
The
shock
of
the
discovery
held
Agnes
speechless
and
helpless
.
Her
first
conscious
action
,
when
she
was
in
some
degree
mistress
of
herself
again
,
was
to
lean
over
the
bed
,
and
to
look
closer
at
the
woman
who
had
so
incomprehensibly
stolen
into
her
room
in
the
dead
of
night
.
One
glance
was
enough
:
she
started
back
with
a
cry
of
amazement
.
The
person
in
the
chair
was
no
other
than
the
widow
of
the
dead
Montbarry
—
the
woman
who
had
warned
her
that
they
were
to
meet
again
,
and
that
the
place
might
be
Venice
!
Her
courage
returned
to
her
,
stung
into
action
by
the
natural
sense
of
indignation
which
the
presence
of
the
Countess
provoked
.
’
Wake
up
!
’
she
called
out
.
’
How
dare
you
come
here
?
How
did
you
get
in
?
Leave
the
room
—
or
I
will
call
for
help
!
’
She
raised
her
voice
at
the
last
words
.
It
produced
no
effect
.
Leaning
farther
over
the
bed
,
she
boldly
took
the
Countess
by
the
shoulder
and
shook
her
.
Not
even
this
effort
succeeded
in
rousing
the
sleeping
woman
.
She
still
lay
back
in
the
chair
,
possessed
by
a
torpor
like
the
torpor
of
death
—
insensible
to
sound
,
insensible
to
touch
.
Was
she
really
sleeping
?
Or
had
she
fainted
?
Agnes
looked
closer
at
her
.
She
had
not
fainted
.
Her
breathing
was
audible
,
rising
and
falling
in
deep
heavy
gasps
.
At
intervals
she
ground
her
teeth
savagely
.
Beads
of
perspiration
stood
thickly
on
her
forehead
.
Her
clenched
hands
rose
and
fell
slowly
from
time
to
time
on
her
lap
.
Was
she
in
the
agony
of
a
dream
?
or
was
she
spiritually
conscious
of
something
hidden
in
the
room
?
