"You are anxious to go to sleep, baron?"
"Yes, most assuredly. Tell me which is my bed, or let me light the candle."
"No, no, it's useless!" said the viscount, hastily. "Your bed is here at the left."
As the viscount's left was the baron's right, the baron turned to the left, fell in with a window, near the window a small table, and upon the table the bell which the agitated viscount had sought in vain. To make assurance doubly sure, he put the bell in his pocket.
"What did you say?" he cried. "Are we playing at blind-man's buff? You ought at least to cry casse-cou. What the devil are you fumbling for there in the dark?"
"I am looking for the bell, to call Pompée."
"But what the devil do you want of Pompée?"
"I want—I want him to make up a bed beside mine."
"For whom?"