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unaccountable vicissitudes, there did not fail to be mingled some degree
of that nervous anxiety which the fury of a boisterous night is so well
calculated to produce. Whistling to his more immediate vicinity the
large black water-dog we have spoken of before, and settling himself
uneasily in his chair, he could not help casting a wary and unquiet eye
toward those distant recesses of the apartment whose inexorable shadows
not even the red firelight itself could more than partially succeed in
overcoming. Having completed a scrutiny whose exact purpose was perhaps
unintelligible to himself, he drew close to his seat a small table
covered with books and papers, and soon became absorbed in the task
of retouching a voluminous manuscript, intended for publication on the
morrow.
He had been thus occupied for some minutes when "I am in no hurry,
Monsieur Bon-Bon," suddenly whispered a whining voice in the apartment.
"The devil!" ejaculated our hero, starting to his feet, overturning the
table at his side, and staring around him in astonishment.
"
"
Very true," calmly replied the voice.
Very true!--what is very true?--how came you here?" vociferated the
metaphysician, as his eye fell upon something which lay stretched at
full length upon the bed.
"I was saying," said the intruder, without attending to the
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