delighted at our meeting, and stood still in perplexity.
He turned a little away, began muttering something,
and walking up and down with short steps....
Then he gradually got farther away, never ceasing
his muttering, and continually looking back over his
shoulder; the room grew larger and was lost in fog....
I felt all at once horrified at the idea that I was
losing my father again, and rushed after him, but
I could no longer see him, I could only hear his angry
muttering, like a bear growling.... My heart
sank with dread; I woke up and could not for a long
while get to sleep again.... All the following
day I pondered on this dream, and naturally could
make nothing of it.
IV
The month of June had come. The town in which
I was living with my mother became exceptionally lively
about that time. A number of ships were in the
harbour, a number of new faces were to be seen in the
streets. I liked at such times to wander along
the sea front, by cafes and hotels, to stare at the
widely differing figures of the sailors and other people,
sitting under linen awnings, at small white tables,
with pewter pots of beer before them.
As I passed one day before a cafe, I caught sight
of a man who at once riveted my whole attention.
Dressed in a long black full coat, with a straw hat
pulled right down over his eyes, he was sitting perfectly
still, his arms folded across his chest. The
straggling curls of his black hair fell almost down
to his nose; his thin lips held tight the mouthpiece
of a short pipe. This man struck me as so familiar,
every feature of his swarthy yellow face were so unmistakably
imprinted in my memory, that I could not help stopping
short before him, I could not help asking myself, ’Who
is that man? where have I seen him?’ Becoming
aware, probably, of my intent stare, he raised his
black, piercing eyes upon me.... I uttered an
involuntary ’Ah!’...
The man was the father I had been looking for, the
father I had beheld in my dream!
There was no possibility of mistake—the
resemblance was too striking. The very coat even,
that wrapped his spare limbs in its long skirts, in
hue and cut, recalled the dressing-gown in which my
father had appeared in the dream.
‘Am I not asleep now?’ I wondered....
No.... It was daytime, about me crowds of people
were bustling, the sun was shining brightly in the
blue sky, and before me was no phantom, but a living
man.
I went up to an empty table, asked for a pot of beer
and a newspaper, and sat down not far off from this
enigmatical being.
