"No, thank you. That would disturb my nerves, and I have need of all my coolness. A plate of soup and a glass of claret will do. Off with you!"
The door shut, and the future explorer of Africa was speedily in the land of dreams.
CHAPTER VIII.
As the clock struck five, Joseph Mohammed entered his master's bedroom, but the latter appeared but little inclined to open his eyes. Joseph, however, knew his duty. If M. de Morin had given an order that he was to be roused at so early an hour, there was evidently something important in the wind, and, consequently, he had no right to sleep. So Mohammed proceeded to pull down the bed-clothes with precisely the same precision with which he had tucked them in.
At the first symptom of cold the young painter showed a disposition to protest against such a brutal proceeding, but his valet, always respectful but firm, said to him—
"I am sure, sir, that you would not wish me to have passed a sleepless night to no purpose."
As this reproach had not the desired effect, Joseph thought himself bound to add—
"When an expedition to Africa is contemplated it is just as well to know how to get out of bed."
This time M. de Morin was convinced. With one bound he was on to the handsome tiger-skin which served him for a carpet; he put on his Eastern slippers, got into his dressing-gown, and went into his dressing-room, which Joseph had lit up to its fullest extent in order to dazzle his master's eyes and complete his awakening. His success was complete, and in five minutes' time M. de Morin had recovered all his gaiety and was hard at work at his toilet, humming the while the very latest air of Offenbach, set to the words of MM. Meilbac and Halevy.
Mohammed, however, did not appear to partake of this light-heartedness. He forgot none of his duties, it is true; he put in the wash-hand basin the proper quantity of eau de Lubin, stropped his favourite razor, and at a spirit-lamp warmed the curling-irons for his master's moustaches. But his countenance was gloomy, and his smile sad, and, every now and then, a sigh, but half-suppressed out of respect, escaped from his over-laden heart.