My exhausted mind refused to reason any more. I saw in a confused way that in his study of grafting he had neglected a whole branch of the subject, or at least that the hothouse was not its theater. My eyelids grew heavy. The more I tried to induce or deduce the more I got confused. The apparition of the preceding night, the gray buildings, and Emma came to aggravate my distraught condition with anxiety, curiosity and desire. In short, never had a feather pillow been the haunt of such a welter of ideas. A riddle! Yes, indeed, a riddle! And yet, though the sphinxes were all round me, through the dim vapor which was now less thick I clearly distinguished them. And as one of them had a pleasing face and a youthful figure, I fell asleep smiling. CHAPTER IV HOT AND COLD _Qui dort dîne._ My slumber lasted till the next morning. And yet I never rested so ill. The bruised feeling caused by a day spent in a motor-car came over my loin-muscles, and for long I felt in them the _ricochets_ of ghostly jolts and the twists of spectral skids. Then I was visited by dreams in which a world of miracle came to life. Brocéliande, the Shakespearean forest, began to move; in the press of it trees walked along arm in arm; a birch tree which looked like a lance made me a speech in German, and I could hardly hear it, for many of the flowers were singing, plants yelped insistently, and great trees every now and then howled aloud. On my awakening, I remembered this hullabaloo with a phonographic exactitude--so much so, that I was alarmed about it, and I was angry with myself for not having made a full examination of the conservatory; a less hasty and calmer study of it would doubtless have enlightened me. I severely condemned my undue haste and my nervous condition of the day before. But why not make up for it? Perhaps it was not too late? With my hands behind my back, and a cigarette between my lips, with no particular aim in my steps, I passed in front of the conservatory, as if I were merely taking a stroll. It was locked. So, I had missed the one chance of learning the truth, yes, I felt, the one and only chance. Oh, donkey, donkey! In order not to arouse suspicion, I had passed the forbidden place without pausing, and now an avenue led me towards the gray buildings. Through the grass which covered it, a beaten path bore witness to frequent passings to and fro. After following the track for some time, I saw my uncle coming to meet me. No doubt he had been on the watch for my coming out. He was quite cheery. His discolored countenance, when he smiled, was now like his young face of long ago. This affable expression restored my equanimity. My escapade had passed unperceived. “Well, my boy,” said he in almost a friendly way, “I bet you are of my way of thinking. It is not a cheerful place. You will soon be weary of your sentimental sojourn at the bottom of this stewpan!”