Motion seemed to produce a mechanical influence upon me.

I was ashamed of my weakness.

Besides, what aid could be afforded me by a lamp?
My fears had pictured to themselves no precise object.

It would be difficult to depict, in words, the ingredients and hues of that phantom which haunted me.

An hand invisible and of preternatural strength, lifted by human passions, and selecting my life for its aim, were parts of this terrific image.