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Suddenly he felt that he was no longer thinking. His reverie had reached
that point of utter darkness in which all things disappear.
He remembered, too, that he had not entered the inn. It might be about
two o'clock in the morning.
He placed the letter which the page had brought him in his side-pocket;
but perceiving that it was next his heart, he drew it out again,
crumpled it up, and placed it in a pocket of his hose. He then directed
his steps towards the inn, which he entered stealthily, and without
awaking little Govicum, who, while waiting up for him, had fallen asleep
on the table, with his arms for a pillow. He closed the door, lighted a
candle at the lamp, fastened the bolt, turned the key in the lock,
taking, mechanically, all the precautions usual to a man returning home
late, ascended the staircase of the Green Box, slipped into the old
hovel which he used as a bedroom, looked at Ursus who was asleep, blew
out his candle, and did not go to bed.
Thus an hour passed away. Weary, at length, and fancying that bed and
sleep were one, he laid his head upon the pillow without undressing,
making darkness the concession of closing his eyes. But the storm of
emotions which assailed him had not waned for an instant. Sleeplessness
is a cruelty which night inflicts on man. Gwynplaine suffered greatly.
For the first time in his life, he was not pleased with himself. Ache of
heart mingled with gratified vanity. What was he to do? Day broke at
last; he heard Ursus get up, but did not raise his eyelids. No truce for
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