It seems that an hour or two later he came to take me down to a Gargantuan meal, but, feeling the chair against the door, and hearing snores, he decided it was better manners to let me lie in peace.
So I did not wake up again until after midnight.

The moonlight was streaming through a little high-perched window, and fell on the white-robed, ghostly-looking figure of a man, who sat with crossed legs on the end of the bed.

I thought I was dead and in hell.
That is no picturesque exaggeration about a man's hair standing when he is terrified.

It really does.

I would have yelled aloud, if the breath would have come, but there is a trick of sudden fear that seems to grip your lungs and hold them impotent.
The thing on the end of the bed had no eye-brows.