“Ah, there you go again,” said the lawyer, “off to dream-land!”
“What is it? What’s the matter? Does the aurora borealis last yet?” asked Cristiano, whose half sleep was evidently cradled in pleasant dreams.
“Where can you get an aurora borealis at this time of day?” asked M. Goefle; “it’s just before sunrise.”
“The sun? What is the use of talking about the sun in the middle of a ball?” asked Cristiano, in the coaxing voice of a sleeper who is begging to be let alone.
“Yes, that’s it; the ball, my coat, the sun, my small-clothes, the aurora borealis,” replied M. Goefle, “all very logical and well connected in your dreams, no doubt, my good friend, but I want you to give a better account of yourself, and I shall keep on shaking you until you can make out a more satisfactory case than that.”
Good-natured Cristiano submitted to the shaking with incomparable meekness. The habit he had acquired of sleeping on the first board he came to, whether at sea in all sorts of weather or on the road in all sorts of vehicles, rendered even the vigorous rocking which the lawyer was bestowing upon him rather agreeable than otherwise; it was just sufficient to make him pleasantly conscious that he was in a state of repose. Gradually, however, the idea made its way into his mind, of ascertaining what place he was in. He opened his eyes, looked at the stove, turned about and gazed, as if to question the sombre walls of the room.
“Deuce take me!” he exclaimed, “if I know where I am. But, after all, what difference does it make? Here to-day, somewhere else to-morrow! Such is life!”
“Please to take the trouble, at least,” said the lawyer, “to observe in whose company you are.”
Well satisfied with this dignified command, M. Goefle waited for the surprise, or terror, or confusion, which were to appear in the face of the delinquent, but in vain. Cristiano rubbed his eyes, looked upon him with a smile, and observed in the most affable manner:
“A very good face, yours, sir! What do you want of me?”