One can readily imagine that I was strongly impressed by what I had heard. The abbé’s faith was evident. He did not believe that he was the victim of a mania. Since the emotions he had experienced in “la chambre aux dames,” he had never again dreamed of them. He added that he was convinced that they would have done him no kind of harm or injury, had he possessed sufficient courage to examine them.
“But I did not,” he observed, “for I almost lost consciousness, and realizing my weakness, I said: “Whoever wishes to do so may penetrate this mystery, I will not assume the charge, I am not equal to such a task.”
I questioned the abbé carefully. His vision had been almost exactly like my own. I made a great effort not to let him suspect the similarity of our adventures. I knew he was too much of a gossip to preserve the secret inviolate, and I feared Madame d’Ionis’ sarcasms more than all the demons of the night; so I assumed an air of ignorance while the abbé questioned me, assuring him that nothing had disturbed my sleep; and when the moment arrived at eleven o’clock in the evening, to re-enter this fatal room, I laughingly promised the dowager to keep a secret account of my dreams, and took leave of the company with an air of gayety and valor.
Nevertheless I was far from feeling either the one or the other. The presence of the abbé, the supper and the evening spent under the dowager’s eyes, had rendered Madame d’Ionis more reserved than she had been with me in the morning. She also seemed to say in each allusion to our sudden and cordial intimacy: “You know at what price I have granted it to you.” I was vexed with myself, I had been neither submissive enough, or sufficiently independent, I seemed to have betrayed the mission my father had confided to me, without in the least advancing my chimeras of love.
The sombre interior reacted upon my impressions and my beautiful apartment wore a gloomy and lugubrious air. I knew not what to think of either the abbé’s reason or my own. Had it not been for a feeling of mauvaise honte, I would have asked for other lodgings and I really experienced a sensation of anger, when I saw Baptiste enter with the accursed waiter, the basket, the three loaves and all the absurd accompaniments of the previous evening.
“What does this mean?” said I testily. “Am I hungry? Haven’t I just left the table?”
“Indeed, Monsieur,” he replied, “I think it is very odd. It was Mademoiselle Zéphyrine who ordered me to bring it to you. It was of no use for me to tell her that you were in the habit of passing your nights in sleeping, and not in eating, she answered laughingly:
“Take it all the same, it is a custom we have always observed. It will not annoy your master and you will see that he will be pleased to have you leave it in his room.”
“Very well, mon ami, do me the favor of carrying it back, without saying anything about it in the servant’s hall. I need my table to write upon.”
Baptiste obeyed. I locked myself in, and retired, after having written to my father. I confess that I slept splendidly and dreamed of but one lady, Madame d’Ionis.