“And what am I?” cried Harry; “but pardon me, Redburn, I did not mean to offend; if you knew all—but no, no!—never mind, never mind!” And he ran to the bust, and whispered in its ear. A waiter came.
“Brandy,” whispered Harry, with clenched teeth.
“Are you not going to sleep, then?” said I, more and more alarmed at his wildness, and fearful of the effects of his drinking still more, in such a mood.
“No sleep for me! sleep if you can—I mean to sit up with a decanter!—let me see”—looking at the ormolu clock on the mantel—“it’s only two hours to morning.”
The waiter, looking very sleepy, and with a green shade on his brow, appeared with the decanter and glasses on a salver, and was told to leave it and depart.
Seeing that Harry was not to be moved, I once more threw myself on the lounge. I did not sleep; but, like a somnambulist, only dozed now and then; starting from my dreams; while Harry sat, with his hat on, at the table; the brandy before him; from which he occasionally poured into his glass. Instead of exciting him, however, to my amazement, the spirits seemed to soothe him down; and, ere long, he was comparatively calm.
At last, just as I had fallen into a deep sleep, I was wakened by his shaking me, and saying our cab was at the door.
“Look! it is broad day,” said he, brushing aside the heavy hangings of the window.
We left the room; and passing through the now silent and deserted hall of pillars, which, at this hour, reeked as with blended roses and cigar-stumps decayed; a dumb waiter; rubbing his eyes, flung open the street door; we sprang into the cab; and soon found ourselves whirled along northward by railroad, toward Prince’s Dock and the Highlander.