Fatigue and the white wine combined to make sleep essential to Ménard, so he did not wait to be urged again; he went behind the flowered curtains, and prepared to retire. Meanwhile, Dubourg, seated at a table in a corner of the room, pretended to look over papers and take notes, but he was really waiting impatiently for the tutor to fall asleep, in order to give the postilion of the berlin the signal to go; for he was afraid that Ménard would wake early, and it would be very embarrassing if the carriage were not then at a safe distance from the village. For this reason, he was anxious to hasten the postilion's departure.
The gate was not closed; Goton alone would see what took place; Dubourg knew how to assure her discretion.
It was a quarter of an hour since Ménard had disappeared behind the curtains. Dubourg thought that he must be asleep, and was about to go downstairs, when he heard a suppressed groan from the direction of the bed.
"Aren't you feeling well, Monsieur Ménard?" he asked, partly opening the curtains.
What was his surprise to find poor Ménard, in shirt and drawers and a cotton nightcap, standing beside the bed, and trying in vain to reach the top with the aid of a chair which was too low to bring his short legs on a level with the mattress.
"What, Monsieur Ménard! not in bed yet?"
"No, monsieur le baron; I have been trying in vain for ten minutes to climb up into my bed. Isn't it an outrage? I call it making fools of their guests to give them beds that reach the ceiling! Everybody isn't six feet tall; and unless one's a giant——"
"Come, come, don't get excited, Monsieur Ménard; why didn't you call me to help you?"
"Oh! monsieur le baron, I shouldn't have presumed to take the liberty."
"You were wrong, for you can't pass the whole night trying to climb into bed."