CHAPTER LXI
OUR BED-CHAMBER
I had passed a miserable night, and, indeed, for many nights had not had my due proportion of sleep. Still I sometimes fancy that I may have swallowed something in my tea that helped to make me so irresistibly drowsy. It was a very dark night—no moon, and the stars soon hid by the gathering clouds. Madame sat silent, and ruminating in her place, with her rugs about her. I, in my corner similarly enveloped, tried to keep awake. Madame plainly thought I was asleep already, for she stole a leather flask from her pocket, and applied it to her lips, causing an aroma of brandy.
But it was vain struggling against the influence that was stealing over me, and I was soon in a profound and dreamless slumber.
Madame awoke me at last, in a huge fuss. She had got out all
