He paid little attention to the jesting, and was scrupulously
exact in his work. But the sense of his double personality began to
worry him again. He did not see scarlet as of old; he noticed when his
eyes were closed that the apparition of a second Ambroise swam into the
field of his vision. And he was positively certain that this spectre of
himself saw scarlet--the attitude of his double assured him of the fact.
Simple-minded, ignorant of cerebral disorders, loyal, and laborious,
Ambroise could not speak of these disquieting things--indeed, he only
worked the more....
At last, one night in late summer, she did not appear. It was after a
day when she had sung more insolently than ever, drunk more than her
accustomed allowance, and had shown Ambroise the purse--the sockets of
the serpent's eyes untenanted by the beautiful carbuncles. Apathetic as
he had become, he was surprised at her absence. It was either caprice or
serious illness. She had dwindled to a skeleton, with a maleficent
smile. Her teeth were yellow, her hands become claws, the scarlet of her
clothes a drab hue, the plumes on her hat gone.
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