Our polite little landlord was right as to his immunity from the worst of nocturnal horrors. But he had been wary in omitting fleas from his penalty of a box on the ear!
"Well, how did you sleep, mesdames?" he asked, as he brought us our breakfast at eight o'clock next morning.
"Ah!" he replied, triumphantly, "I told you my house was clean!"
"But," said the third, quietly, "twenty-seven fleas are a good many to catch at one sitting!"
The poor man's face fell. "Ah, peste!" said he, with a vexed air; "that militaire kept three dogs in his room. What is a man to do?"
As for me, the beauty of the night alone prevented my sleeping. It seemed a shame to be lying idly dreaming when the clear moonlight outside was lighting up such weird beauties of nature.
My little window looked down from the very summit of the citadel rock, over perpendicular chalk cliffs, upon the dashing waves far, far beneath, where by daylight I had watched them playing over malachite stones and purple seaweed.
All around stretched the bay, the chalk cliffs, and little detached stacks, grooved and hollowed by the wasting waters; and the long promontory, edged by black rocks, jutting out into distant depths of blue Mediterranean. On this promontory stood a signal-house, and a lighthouse; and at the extreme end of it was a curious natural rock, shaped like a broad watch-tower, with pagoda roof.
But now, the bright moonlight shone on a black sea lit up by silver crests, and golden gleams from the distant lighthouse threw strange lights across little shadowy bays, whilst the detached rocks stood up like black ghosts raising fantastic heads towards the deep blue sky.