They sat on books, and ate what there was. Outside the wind had freshened; it buffeted fitfully but fiercely at the window, and came with dashes of rain. Down the corridor they could hear the casements swinging and banging, and over all the wind itself roaring through the great bare passages as if they had been tunnels.
"A wild night, Spiridion," said Prosper. "And what a night," thought he, "for a surprise."
"Wild enough," replied Spiridion, "but I am indifferent to weather, being seldom abroad. How do you find this wine?"
"Excellent," said Prosper, and drained his glass.
"Of this Galors, whom I think you know," Spiridion continued, "I hear bad reports. Not only has he cut the throats of my household, but from the account given me by my fair friend (concerning whom," he said with a bow, "we are agreed to differ), I fear he is otherwise of a wild and irregular conversation."
"You are right there, my friend," laughed Prosper.
"If he murders me," the other went on, sipping his wine, "it will be on some such night as this."
"I have just said as much to myself," Prosper replied; "but I will do my best to prevent him, I assure you."
"You are so courteous a defender, fair sir," said Spiridion, "I could wish you a more worthy client."
Prosper inwardly agreed with him. Shortly afterwards Spiridion bowed him to bed. For himself he carefully undressed and put on his night-shirt; then, lying down, he was asleep in a moment. The storm was by this time a gale, the noise of it continuous out doors and in. Prosper judged it expedient to have his arms within reach; the more so as he could not help fancying he had heard the sound of rowlocks on the mere. He stripped himself therefore to his doublet and breeches, heaped his armour by the bedside, slung his shield and sword over the foot, and then lay down by his peaceful companion. He had not forgotten either to look to the trimming and feeding of the lamp.