Frightful terrors, dreadful nightmares assailed her. She shut herself up
in her own room and barricaded the door, tortured by fear.

What was she afraid of? She could not tell.

Fear of everything, of the night, of the walls, of the shadows thrown by
the moon on the white curtains of the windows, and, above all, fear of
him.

Why? What had she to fear? Did she know what it was? She could live this
way no longer! She felt certain that a misfortune threatened her, a
frightful misfortune.

She set forth secretly one morning and went into the city to see her
relatives. She told them about the matter in a gasping voice. The two
women thought she was going mad and tried to reassure her.

She said:

"If you knew the way he looks at me from morning till night. He never
takes his eyes off me! At times I feel a longing to cry for help, to
call in the neighbors, so much am I afraid. But what could I say to
them? He does nothing to me except to keep looking at me."

The two female cousins asked:

"Is he ever brutal to you? Does he give you sharp answers?"

She replied: