Wilson remembers that he had been drinking heavily and the closeness of the room seemed to suffocate him. He was trying to force his way through a maze of people, trying to locate his host's young and beautiful wife, when he felt a light hand on his shoulder and heard that "ever-remembered, low, damnable whisper within my ear." The stranger, hidden behind a mask of black silk, was dressed in a Spanish costume identical to Wilson's. Wilson could bear no more: He raged at the stranger, loudly threatened him with death, and dragged him into a small antechamber. They struggled, Wilson drew his sword, and plunged it repeatedly into his opponent's chest.
When the doors were opened, Wilson found himself before a mirror, his pale image dabbled in blood. And yet what he saw was not a mirror: it was the Other, speaking no longer in a whisper, and Wilson fancies that he himself was speaking as the other Wilson said, ". . . in me didst thou exist — and, in my death . . . thou has murdered thyself."
