Halfway up he heard the sound of his wife's hurried voice and another that startled him.

He ascended hastily two steps, which brought him to the level of the half-opened transom of the kitchen.

A candle was burning on the kitchen table; he could see everything that passed in the room; he could hear distinctly every word that was uttered.
He did not utter a cry or sound; he did not even tremble.

He remained so rigid and motionless, clutching the banisters with his stiffened fingers, that when he did attempt to move, all life, as well as all that had made life possible to him, seemed to have died from him for ever.

There was no nervous illusion, no dimming of his senses; he saw everything with a hideous clarity of perception.