Bret Harte,
Stories in Light and Shadow
“ My wife Urania, she stand there, of a fear, of a tremble; she grasp, she cling to someone. The earth shake again; the door shut. I jump from my table; I shake and tumble to the door. I fling him open. Maravilloso! it is the room of my wife again. She is NOT there; it is empty; it is nothing!” I felt myself turning hot and cold by turns. I was horrified, and—and I blundered. “And who was the other figure?” I gasped. “Who?” repeated Enriquez, with a pause, a fixed look at me, and a sublime gesture. “Who SHOULD it be, but myself, Enriquez Saltillo?” ”
