to the returning to life after being in a state of asphyxiation.
Physically, he was calm; morally, he felt no remorse. He was right,
therefore, in his theory when he told Phillis that in the intelligent man
remorse precedes the action, instead of following it.

But where he was mistaken was in imagining that during the act he should
maintain his coolness and force, which, in reality, had failed him
completely.

Going from one idea to another, tossed by irresolution, he was by no
means the strong man that he had believed himself: one to go to the end
unmoved, ready to face every attack; master of his nerves as of his will,
in full possession of all his powers. On the contrary, he had been the
plaything of agitation and weakness. If a serious danger had risen.
before him, he would not have known on which side to attack it; fear
would have paralyzed him, and he would have been lost.

To tell the truth, his hand had been firm, but his head had been
bewildered.

There was something humiliating in this, he was obliged to acknowledge;
and, what was more serious, it was alarming. Because, although
everything had gone as he wished, up to the present time, all was not
finished, nor even begun.

If the investigations of the law should reach him, how should he defend
himself?

He felt sure that he had not been seen in Caffies house at the moment
when the crime was committed; but does one ever know whether one has been