Seeing him quaff the final dregs in his monstrous cup, which of late had begun to thicken his speech a little, seeing him wrap his cloak about him and otherwise suit his action to his words, I was fain to imitate him in these particulars. Nestling into the warm corner of the chimney, for after the heat of the day the northern night was cold, fatigue overcame me at once, and I fell into a profound and delicious sleep. CHAPTER VIII OF A GREAT CALAMITY I HAD not even time to mutter my prayers, which, considering what lay before me, were never so sorely needed, ere I was in a sweet oblivion. Upon returning from this pleasant bourne a joyful sense of refreshment stole over my veins, for my slumber had been dreamless, and for several hours the sun had been in attendance on the morning. The first thing I observed was my companion of the previous night. He was seated on his stool, and was blowing with his mouth upon a basin of porridge. “Landlord,” I heard him roar, “if you do not bring me a cup of sack to cool my throat, which I have blistered already with your damnable gruel, the worms will have fresh meat in their larder.” He pointed this threat by thrusting his dagger into the loose earth which formed the floor. “Ha! Spaniardo,” said he, observing that I had opened my eyes, “do I perceive you to be awake already? You have slept round the clock. What a notable gift is that of youth.” “I give you good morrow, Sir Richard Pendragon,” said I, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and slowly recalling my situation. Hardly had I done so than I remembered that eight crowns was my fortune, in an old piece of goatskin. Instantly I pressed my hand where I had placed it last. How shall I record the terrible pang that seized me when I pressed and felt in vain. I got up and looked all about my corner; looked under the settle on which I had lain; examined the dry earth which composed the floor; felt in all my pockets yet again, and even groped among the ashes of the newly kindled fire. But my purse was not. I cannot tell you what a desperate pang overcame me when I discovered that I was bereft of every maravedi I had in the world. By the time I had concluded these investigations the Englishman, who had been far too much employed with his breakfast to heed these actions, had taken himself off out of doors. I was glad to find him gone; and I proceeded to conduct my search in every corner of the place, in the vain hope that it had fallen from me in those energetic passages of the previous night. But I should have done as well to look in a sandpit for a precious stone.