It was much worse when, going down on his
knees, he set about taking off my boots preparatory to putting me to
bed. For the moment I thought he was playing a trick upon me, and came
very near giving him a good blow on the head; but his manner was so
serious as he went through this task that I sat and stared at him in
amazement.
At first, at finding myself in bed without arms, and with people
entering and leaving my room always on tip-toe, I again began to feel
suspicious. I took advantage of a moment when I was alone to get out of
bed and take from the table, which was only half cleared, the longest
knife I could find. Feeling easier in my mind, I returned to bed and
fell into a sound sleep, with the knife firmly clasped in my hand.
When I awoke again the rays of the setting sun, softened by my red
damask curtains, were falling on my beautifully fine sheets and lighting
up the golden pomegranates that adorned the corners of the bed. This bed
was so handsome and soft that I felt inclined to make it my apologies
for having slept in it. As I was about to get up I saw a kindly,
venerable face looking through the half-drawn curtains and smiling. It
was the Chevalier Hubert de Mauprat. He inquired anxiously about
the state of my health. I endeavoured to be polite and to express my
gratitude; but the language I used seemed so different from his that
I was disconcerted and pained at my awkwardness without being able to
realize why.
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