He was very warm in bed, but he could not succeed in losing
consciousness. He tossed and turned, remained for five minutes lying on
his back, then changed to his left side, then rolled over to his right.
He was thirsty again, and rose to drink. Then a qualm seized him:

"Can it be possible that I am afraid?"

Why did his heart beat so uncontrollably at every well-known sound in his
room? When the clock was about to strike, the prefatory grating of its
spring made him start, and for several seconds he panted for breath, so
unnerved was he.

He began to reason with himself on the possibility of such a thing:
"Could I by any chance be afraid?"

No, indeed; he could not be afraid, since he was resolved to proceed to
the last extremity, since he was irrevocably determined to fight without
flinching. And yet he was so perturbed in mind and body that he asked
himself:

"Is it possible to be afraid in spite of one's self?"

And this doubt, this fearful question, took possession of him. If an
irresistible power, stronger than his own will, were to quell his
courage, what would happen? He would certainly go to the place appointed;
his will would force him that far. But supposing, when there, he were to
tremble or faint? And he thought of his social standing, his reputation,
his name.

And he suddenly determined to get up and look at himself in the glass. He