It was shameless, but he could no longer resist the temptation. Victoria's room was indeed far too dark for his liking and far too quiet also, yet it was safe—an attribute of which his own chamber could not boast. If he could simply creep beneath her bed, take a quick nap there, and then leave come early morning, all would be well. If by some unhappy misfortune he was discovered, he would be more than pleased to explain all to his darling wife.

Finding the bed was more difficult than he would have thought possible; nevertheless, his searching hands soon encountered a bulky, soft object which he knew could be nothing else. He dropped to the floor silently, wincing as he did so, and then would have finally slipped beneath the bed had his head not struck against hard wood with some violence, causing a heavy thud that roused Victoria instantly from her slumber.

Terror lent her speed as Victoria caught up the box of matches which rested on the little table by her bed and, striking one of these, lit the candle that had been placed beside it. The room was flooded with light and Victor, sprawled awkwardly on the floor, found himself wishing that he could abruptly vanish even as his wife rose from her bed and said in her astonishment,

"Why—Victor?"

"Oh, Victoria—do forgive me," Victor whispered, rising hastily. "I—I didn't mean to wake you..."

Victoria's expression was frozen. "You're sneaking about in my room..."

"No...no, it's not like that at all!" Victor said with great desperation, moving towards her with a small gasp of pain—a gasp which did not escape her notice. Moving swiftly to his side, she tried to examine his head as she said gently,

"Be still, Victor. Is it your head? Did you hurt yourself badly when you ran into my dresser?"

Victor winced, wishing that Victoria had not draped a sizable amount of her clothes over her dresser's top, and replied, "No, I'm afraid not. It's something else...it's nothing, really. Nothing."

Victoria's interest and concern were simultaneously roused at this statement. Rubbing her eyes, she proceeded to study him from head to foot with the utmost care; a look of realization soon passed over her face and she reached out one hand, pressing it gently against his chest. Victor cried out and stepped backwards swiftly, but Victoria moved to one side in a manner that suggested she would not allow him to escape. She took a few small steps towards him and he again backed away, but she had positioned herself so that now she was between him and the door. Victor took somewhat lengthy strides in his haste and he fell over the bed behind him, an unfortunate occurrence which gave Victoria the chance she had so patiently waited for.

Victor strove to rise but Victoria held him down easily.

"Don't move," she hissed.

"Victoria!" Victor cried, a little frightened. She looked down at him and murmured soothingly,

"Come now, Victor, I'm not going to hurt you. How could you possibly think so? Now lie still."

Victor obeyed her silently, wondering if the dangers of his room could present any worse torture than this. Victoria's fingers worked at the buttons of his coat and he whispered,

"Don't, Victoria...it's not that bad, trust me."

"I can't trust you on such matters," Victoria said shortly. She sighed and frowned after having unbuttoned the coat with Victor's aid. "Hmm. More blood."

She should never had spoken thus. At these words, Victor fell utterly apart; he tried to rise in his panic, but still Victoria would not permit him to do so. Yet she was sympathetic and when he lay motionless once more she said to him gently,

"Victor, I won't touch you again without your permission—even though you know well that I wouldn't dream of harming you. Come, come, you're barely hurt, I'm sure...but I won't make you remain here if you do not wish to."

Victor gazed up at her as she stroked his face. "I'm so—nervous," he whispered. "And it's not merely because of this! I...I..."

"Yes?" Victoria said, seating herself on the bed.

Victor sighed. "You'll think me insane," he said.

Victoria felt more than a little hurt at this assumption. "Well," she said bitterly, "then perhaps I'd better not know—if you think that I feel so unbelieving towards the things you tell me." She would have risen and perhaps left if Victor had not sat up hastily, touching her arm and causing her to hesitate.

"Forgive me," he said softly. "It was wrong of me to speak of you so..."

"It was wrong of you to doubt me in any way," Victoria said, avoiding his gaze. "I must go. I must see Hildegarde."

Victor knew that she couldn't possibly wish to find her old nurse at this time of night. Taking her hands in his, he said,

"Please...don't leave, Victoria. What a cad I am! Oh, I—I'll tell you everything, Victoria, I swear I will! Only say you forgive me..."

"Forgive you for what, Victor? You're only taking for granted what everyone else does, after all—that I'm a silly young goose."

Victor trembled in his agony and seemed unable to speak further. He barely managed to take Victoria in his arms, so rattled was he, and he shook so very badly that for the briefest moment it occurred to him that perhaps he would die. A death of that sort he more than deserved.

Victoria had been badly hurt by his thoughtless statement, and as Victor held her close she more relished his anguish than pitied it. It was only when the tears began to spill from her unblinking eyes that she realized she couldn't bear to see him in such pain. Sobbing quietly, her arms encircled his thin waist.

Victoria's head rested on Victor's wounded chest, but he didn't seem to notice. "I'm so sorry—so sorry," he breathed.

Victoria raised her head until her eyes met his. "All the years I spent with those...those fiendish parents of mine!" she gasped, her voice choked with tears. "They've ruined me, haven't they?"

"No," Victor said in the faintest of whispers. He managed a smile. "They've simply made you quite sensitive."

Perhaps this observation would have offended her, too, only the rare smile which she now witnessed lessened her anger. She kissed his numb lips lightly.

"Tell me why you were in my room," she said, shifting her position until she rested more comfortably against him.

"Well, I..." Victor's cheeks burned and he closed his eyes, heart pounding with discomfort. "I wanted to...to...""Ah," Victoria said, laying one hand on his arm, "it can't be that bad."

"Oh, I...I wanted...to spend the night beneath your bed, where it's safe and...dark and...quiet!"

Well, what did it matter if he sounded like a complete and utter idiot? Victoria had wanted to know, after all. His eyes flew open as his wife made the strangest of sounds, yet he soon became more than relieved when he realized that she was only laughing at him. Gazing up at him once more, she pointed at his partially bloodstained vest.

"Does this have something to do with that brilliant idea?" she inquired.

Victor looked away. "As a matter of fact," he said, "...yes."

"I really should look at that wound, you know," Victoria said. "Oh, it will be so difficult to wash all the blood out of..."

"Ah—ah, yes," Victor said hurriedly, desperate to change the subject. "So, then...it...we ought...the..."

Victoria smiled. "How did you get it, then?" she said, now resting her head on his shoulder.

"Hmm," Victor sighed. "I was...stabbed."

"Stabbed," Victoria murmured sleepily, hardly disturbed. She sat bolt upright abruptly. "Stabbed! Whatever do you mean? I must look at that wound. Here, let me..."

"No," Victor said with all haste, "but...but believe me when I say, my Victoria, that my room is...haunted. And the ghosts—they're murderous!"

"Haunted!" Victoria said with a small frown. "Why, of course it is. Did you not know that, Victor? Oh, goodness...I forgot to tell you! Did they try to kill you? Poor thing, they're so used to being left in privacy. Tell me all about it, why don't you? It's alright," she added, noticing his shock, "I know that what you are saying is all too true."