He must have slept some time after he ceased dreaming for he had no immediate¹ memory of this vision. It came back to him later, after he had roused himself and had walked nearly home. No great arrangement was needed to make it seem a striking allegory, and it haunted and oppressed him for the rest of the day. He took refuge, however, in his quickened conviction that the only sound policy in life is to grasp unsparingly at happiness; and it seemed no more than one of the vigorous measures dictated² by such a policy to return that evening to Madame de Mauves. And yet when he had decided³ to do so and had carefully dressed himself he felt an irresistible⁴ nervous tremor⁵ which made it easier to linger at his open window, wondering with a strange mixture of dread⁶ and desire whether Madame Clairin had repeated to her sister-in-law what she had said to him. His presence now might be simply a gratuitous⁷ annoyance⁸, and yet his absence might seem to imply that it was in the power of circumstances to make them ashamed to meet each other’s eyes. He sat a long time with his head in his hands, lost in a painful confusion of hopes and ambiguities⁹. He felt at moments as if he could throttle¹⁰ Madame Clairin, and yet couldn’t help asking himself if it weren’t possible she had done him a service. It was late when he left the hotel, and as he entered the gate of the other house his heart beat so fast that he was sure his voice would show it.