The Writings of Prosper Mérimée/Volume 5/Lokis/5
V
It was very late before we retired to bed. In many of the great houses in Lithuania there is plenty of splendid silver plate, fine furniture, and valuable Persian carpets; but they have not, as in our dear Germany, comfortable feather beds to oflfer the tired guest. Rich or poor, nobleman or peasant, a Slav can sleep quite soundly on a board. The Castle of Dowghielly was no exception to this general rule. In the room to which the Count and I were conducted there were but two couches newly covered with morocco leather. This did not distress me much, as I had often slept on the bare earth in my travels, and I laughed a little at the Count's exclamations upon the barbarous customs of his compatriots. A servant came to take off our boots and to bring us dressing-gowns and slippers. When the Count had taken off his coat, he walked up and down awhile in silence, then he stopped in front of the couch, upon which I had already stretched myself.
"What do you think of Ioulka? " he said.
"I think she is bewitching."
"Yes, but such a flirt! . . . Do you believe she has any liking for that fair-haired little captain? "
"The aide-de-camp? . t. . How should I tell? "
"He is a fop ! . . . So he ought to please women."
"I deny your conclusion, Count. Do you wish me to tell you the truth? Mademoiselle Ioulka thinks far more how to please Count Szémioth than to please all the aides-de-camp in the army."
He blushed without replying; but I saw that my words had given him great pleasure. He walked about again for some time without speaking; then, after looking at his watch, he said—
"Good gracious! we must really go to sleep; it is very late."
He took his rifle and his hunting knife, which had been placed in our room, put them in a cupboard, and took out the key.
"Will you keep it?" he said; and to my great surprise he gave it to me. " I might forget it. You certainly have a better memory than I have."
"The best way not to forget your weapons would be to place them on that table near your sofa," I said.
" No. . . . Look here, to tell you the truth, I do not like to have arms by me when I am asleep, . . . This is the reason. When I was in the Grodno Hussars, I slept one night in a room with a companion, and my pistols were on the chair near me. In the night I was awakened by a report. I had a pistol in my hand; I had fired, and the bullet had passed within two inches of my comrade's head. . . . I have never been able to remember the dream I had."
I was a little disturbed by his anecdote. I was guarded against having a bullet through my head; but, when I looked at the tall figure of my companion, with his herculean shoulders and his muscular arms covered with black down, I could not help recognising that he was perfectly able to strangle me with his hands if he had a bad dream. I took care, however, not to let him see that I felt the slightest uneasiness. I merely put a light on a chair close to my couch, and began to read the Catechism of Lawiçki, which I had brought with me. The Count wished me good night, and lay down on his sofa, upon which he turned over five or six times; at last he seemed asleep, although he was doubled up like Horace's lover, who, shut up in a chest, touched his head with his bent knees.
". . . Turpi clausus in area,
Contractum genibus tangas caput. . . ."
From time to time he sighed heavily, or made a kind of nervous rattle, which I attributed to the pecuhar position in which he had chosen to sleep. An hour perhaps passed in this way, and I myself became drowsy. I shut my book, and settled myself as comfortably as was possible on my bed, when an odd giggling sound from my neighbour set me trembling. I looked at the Count. His eyes were shut; his whole body shuddered; from his half-opened lips escaped some hardly articulate words.
"So fresh! . . . so white! . . . The Professor did not know what he said. . Horse is not worth a straw. . . . What a delicious morsel! "
The snake remained quiet a moment, then it curled itself round the shrivelled arm of the old woman and disappeared in the sleeve of her sheep- skin cloak.
An etching from a draming by A. Robaudi. Copyright 1905 by Frank S. Holby
I remained quite still on my couch, and pretended to be asleep. Nevertheless, I watched him. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, sighed sadly, and remained for nearly an hour without changing his position, absorbed apparently in his reflections. I was, however, very ill at ease, and I inwardly vowed never again to sleep by the side of the Count. But in the long run weariness overcame disquiet, and when the servant came to our room in the morning, we were both in a profound sleep.