After this, I conclude that I must have imagined myself in the East,—possibly taking a cup of sherbet with the Sultan, or a chibouk with the Khan of Tammerkabund; for when I became conscious once more, I found myself upon the hearthrug, where I had been enjoying a delicious sleep for some hours.
“Would his Excellency desire to see his chamber?” asked the landlord, as, with a branch of candles, he stood in the doorway.
I waved my hand in sign of assent, and followed him.
CHAPTER XXVII. GUAJUAQUALLA
There are few things in this world gold cannot buy: but one among their number assuredly is—“a happy dream.” Now, although I went to sleep in a great bed with damask hangings and a gilt crown upon it, my pillow fringed with deep lace, my coverlet of satin edged with gold, I dreamed the whole night through of strifes, combats, and encounters. At one time my enemy would be an Indian; at another, a half-breed; now, a negro; now, a jaguar or a rattlesnake: but with whom, or whatever the struggle, it was always for money! Nothing else seemed to have any hold upon my thoughts. Wealth, and wealth alone, appeared the guiding principle of my being; and, as the penalty, I was now to learn the ceaseless anxieties, the torturing dreads, this passion begets.
With daylight, however, I awoke, and the bright sun, streaming in, brought the glorious reality of my happy lot before me, and reminded me of the various duties my high state imposed. My first care was to ascertain the amount and security of my riches; and I resolved to proceed regularly and in the most business-like manner in the matter. To this end I ordered my carriage, and proceeded to pay my visit to the banker, Don Xafire.
I had devised and demolished full fifty ingenious narratives of myself when I drove into the courtyard where the banker resided, and found myself actually without one single satisfactory account of who I was, whence I came, and by what means I became possessed of the formidable papers I carried. “Let circumstances pilot the event” was my old maxim; and, so saying, I entered.
The rattling tramp of my six mules, the cracking of whips, and the crash of the wheels, brought many a head to the windows of the old jail-like palace when my carriage drove up to the door, and the two outriders stood in “a salute” at each side while I descended. “Sua Eccelenza El Condé de Cregano” resounded through the arched hall and passages, as an old servant in a tawdry suit of threadbare livery led the way to Don Xafire's private apartment.