“And was drowned?”
“Doubtless, he was.”
“I scarcely regret him,” said Gabriac.
“And I not at all,” replied the other. “Good night;” and with this he closed the window, leaving us to find our way as best we could.
I followed Gabriac as he slowly groped his way up the stairs and reached a door on the third story, of which he produced the key. He struck a light as he passed in, and lighted a small lamp, by which I was enabled to see the details of a chamber poorer and more miserable than anything I had ever conceived. A board laid upon two chairs served for a table, and some wood-shavings, partially covered by a blanket, formed a bed; a couple of earthenware pipkins comprised the cooking utensils, and a leaden basin supplied the provisions for the toilet.
“Lie down there and take a sleep, Jasper, for I have no supper for you,” said Gabriac; but his voice had a touch of compassionate gentleness in it which I heard for the first time.
“And you, sir,” said I, “have you no bed?”
“I have no need of one. I have occupation that will not admit of sleep,” said he. “And now, boy, once for all, never question me, nor ask the reasons of what may seem strange or odd to you. Your own faculties must explain whatever requires explaining—or else you must remain in ignorance;” and with these words he passed into an inner chamber, from which he speedily issued forth to descend the stairs into the street, leaving me alone to my slumbers. And they were heavy and dreamless ones, for I was thoroughly wearied and worn out by the road.
I was still asleep, and so soundly that I resisted all efforts to awake me till a strong shake effectually succeeded, and, on looking up, I saw Gabriac standing by my side.
“Get up, boy, and dress. These are your clothes,” said he, pointing to a uniform of dark green and black, with a sword-belt of black leather, from which hung a short, broad-bladed weapon. The dress was without any richness, still a becoming one, and I put it on without reluctance.