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closets, they were capable of accommodating but a single individual. One
of these small apartments was occupied by Wilson.
One night, about the close of my fifth year at the school, and
immediately after the altercation just mentioned, finding every one
wrapped in sleep, I arose from bed, and, lamp in hand, stole through a
wilderness of narrow passages from my own bedroom to that of my rival. I
had long been plotting one of those ill-natured pieces of practical wit
at his expense in which I had hitherto been so uniformly unsuccessful.
It was my intention, now, to put my scheme in operation, and I resolved
to make him feel the whole extent of the malice with which I was imbued.
Having reached his closet, I noiselessly entered, leaving the lamp, with
a shade over it, on the outside. I advanced a step, and listened to
the sound of his tranquil breathing. Assured of his being asleep, I
returned, took the light, and with it again approached the bed. Close
curtains were around it, which, in the prosecution of my plan, I
slowly and quietly withdrew, when the bright rays fell vividly upon
the sleeper, and my eyes, at the same moment, upon his countenance. I
looked;--and a numbness, an iciness of feeling instantly pervaded my
frame. My breast heaved, my knees tottered, my whole spirit became
possessed with an objectless yet intolerable horror. Gasping for
breath, I lowered the lamp in still nearer proximity to the face. Were
these--these the lineaments of William Wilson? I saw, indeed, that they
were his, but I shook as if with a fit of the ague in fancying they
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