"I have told you why. I have had a bad dream about you. I tried to rest after it, but it was impossible. I could not make up my mind to stay where I was without knowing you were safe; and yet I could not make up my mind to come in here. I have been minutes hesitating at the door. It is so easy to laugh at a dream that you have not dreamed. Where is your candle?" "Burnt out." "I have a whole one in my room. Shall I fetch it?" "Do so." His room was very near, and he was absent for but a few seconds. Coming back with the candle in his hand, he kneeled down on the hearth and lighted it. As he blew with his breath a charred billet into flame for the purpose, Vendale, looking down at him, saw that his lips were white and not easy of control. "Yes!" said Obenreizer, setting the lighted candle on the table, "it was a bad dream. Only look at me!" His feet were bare; his red-flannel shirt was thrown back at the throat, and its sleeves were rolled above the elbows; his only other garment, a pair of under pantaloons or drawers, reaching to the ankles, fitted him close and tight. A certain lithe and savage appearance was on his figure, and his eyes were very bright. "If there had been a wrestle with a robber, as I dreamed," said Obenreizer, "you see, I was stripped for it." "And armed too," said Vendale, glancing at his girdle. "A traveller's dagger, that I always carry on the road," he answered carelessly, half drawing it from its sheath with his left hand, and putting it back again. "Do you carry no such thing?" "Nothing of the kind." "No pistols?" said Obenreizer, glancing at the table, and from it to the untouched pillow. "Nothing of the sort." "You Englishmen are so confident! You wish to sleep?" "I have wished to sleep this long time, but I can't do it." "I neither, after the bad dream. My fire has gone the way of your candle. May I come and sit by yours? Two o'clock! It will so soon be four, that it is not worth the trouble to go to bed again." "I shall not take the trouble to go to bed at all, now," said Vendale; "sit here and keep me company, and welcome." Going back to his room to arrange his dress, Obenreizer soon returned in a loose cloak and slippers, and they sat down on opposite sides of the hearth. In the interval Vendale had replenished the fire from the wood- basket in his room, and Obenreizer had put upon the table a flask and cup from his. "Common cabaret brandy, I am afraid," he said, pouring out; "bought upon the road, and not like yours from Cripple Corner. But yours is exhausted; so much the worse. A cold night, a cold time of night, a cold country, and a cold house. This may be better than nothing; try it." Vendale took the cup, and did so. "How do you find it?" "It has a coarse after-flavour," said Vendale, giving back the cup with a slight shudder, "and I don't like it."