“I must have fallen asleep!” she exclaimed quite naively.
She bade them each “Good night,” and then started up the uncanny stairs. Near the top she paused in the darkness, and looking over the balustrade into the hall below, seemed to be waiting. Perhaps she was not so completely in the shadow as she imagined, and perhaps Paul did not see aright, but through the gloom he thought he caught the flash of a diamond as it moved toward her lips and away again. If tempted to return the salute, his better judgment prevailed, and while holding the stem of his pipe in his right hand, pressed the tobacco firmly into the bowl with his left. A troublesome thought presented itself. Could this girl have entered into any kind of entanglement with his namesake which would have demanded a tenderer attitude than he had assumed toward her? Had he neglected opportunities and failed to avail himself of privileges which he had unknowingly inherited? For an instant the thought disturbed Mr. Henley's equilibrium, but a moment's reflection convinced him that the idea was not worth considering. Whatever it was he had seen upon the stairs he knew was not intended for his eyes, even if it had been meant for himself.
“Shall we smoke another pipe?” said Ah Ben. “I'm something of an owl myself, and shall sit here for quite a while before retiring.”
Paul was glad of the opportunity, and accepted with alacrity. He hoped in the quiet of a midnight conversation to discover something about this peculiar man and his home. Perhaps he should also learn something of the girl, her strange life, and the Guirs.
“We may not be so comfortable as we would be in our beds,” continued the elder man, “but there is a certain comfort in discomfort which ought not to be undervalued. Sleep, to be enjoyed, should be discouraged rather than courted.”
“Yes,” answered Paul, “I believe Shakespeare has told us something about it in his famous soliloquy on that subject.”
“True,” replied Ah Ben, “and I suppose there is no one living who has not felt the delusion of comfort. Like many other material blessings, it is to be had only in pills.”
Ah Ben had stretched his legs out toward the hearth, and while passing his hand across his withered cheek, had closed his eyes in reverie. The dim and uncertain shadows made the room seem like some vast cavern, whose walls were mythical and whose recesses unexplored. The lamp had expired to a single spark, and there was nothing to reveal their presence to each other except the red glow from the embers.
“No,” said the man, continuing to speak with his eyes still closed, “luxury is not necessary to a man's happiness, although he has persuaded himself that it is so.”
“Perhaps not,” Paul admitted, “although I contend that a certain amount of comfort is.”