He was roused only by the grating of the lock. It was bright day; Gilbert saw his host gently enter.
"Good-morning," he muttered, with the red of shame on his cheeks as he saw Jacques staring at the beans and emptied bags.
"Did you sleep soundly?"
"Ye-es."
"Nay, are you not a sleep-walker?"
"Alas, I see why you say that. I sat up reading till the candle was burnt out, from the first sheet on which my eyes fell so greatly interesting me. Do you, who know so much, know to what lovely novel those pages belong?"
"I do not know, but as I notice the word 'Confessions' on the headline, I should think it was Memoirs."
"Oh, no, the man so speaking is not doing so of himself; the avowals are too frank—the opinions too impartial."
"I think you are wrong," said the old gentleman quickly. "The author wanted to set an example of showing himself to his fellows as heaven created him."
"Do you know the author?"