He groaned, and there was an oppression on his chest, so that he
struggled for breath; but, in another moment, the crouching figure was
gone, and the oppression with it; but drops of sweat stood upon the old
man's broad forehead.
Still another vision awaits him, however, and he draws himself up
sternly to encounter it, and a heavy frown lowers on his thick gray
eyebrows. But the lofty form which confronts him, massive and stalwart,
alike in mind and body, meets his gaze unflinchingly, and frowns back in
angry defiance. The old professor pauses in his intended denunciation,
being taken aback somewhat, at the unexpected counter-accusation which
strikes out at him from the young man's eyes. Yet do his self-confidence
and indignation become reconfirmed, for there, behind, the three former
phantoms appear together, and seem to launch against the last a deadly
shaft of bitter reproach and judgment. The professor watches it cleave a
passage through the stalwart figure's heart, and he bows his head, and
thinks--it is but justice! In the same instant, a cry of intensest pain
and horror escapes him: the deadly arrow, additionally poisoned by the
blood it has just shed, has passed quite through the spectre of his
former pupil, and is buried up to the feather in Professor Valeyon's
own vitals! This shock effectually wakened the old gentleman--for, after
all, he had only been having an uneasy nap in his straight-backed
chair!--and he started to his feet, and fumbled nervously for the
match-box.
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