“Oh, Monsieur Goefle,” said the little lad, with his teeth chattering, “it has been night for a long time, and I am always so afraid in the night.”
“Afraid? Of what, pray? Well, console yourself; at this season the days are getting a minute and a half longer daily.”
Talking away after this fashion, M. Goefle, who was a man of about sixty, dry, active and cheerful, himself put the horse into the stable, while Ulphilas drew the sleigh into the coach-house, and hung up the harness and bells. In the meanwhile, little Nils still sat shivering on the luggage which was under the wooden gallery around the court.
When M. Goefle was satisfied that his beloved Loki, the handsome and generous little horse whom he had named for the Prometheus of the Scandinavian mythology, would want for nothing, he turned, and with his firm step proceeded towards the bear-room.
“Wait, wait, Monsieur Advocate,” said Ulphilas, “that is not the way. The double-bedded room that we call the guard-room—”
“Parbleu! I know all about it,” replied M. Goefle. “I have slept in it before now.”
“Perhaps so, but that was a long time ago. It is so out of repair now—”
“Well, if it is out of repair you can make me up a bed in the bear-room.”
“In the—”
Ulph dared not finish, so monstrous did M. Goefle’s suggestions seem. Taking courage after a pause, he resumed:—