They give you the queerest dreams. And, just before, as it happens, Mr. Pringle had been reading "The Arabian Nights." [_To PRINGLE._] You _did_ say "The Arabian Nights," didn't you? PRINGLE. "The Arabian Nights"--yes. I read it regularly. HORACE. [_To the others, airily._] Which probably accounts for his dreams. And, in some exceptional cases, the Efreets--I mean, the _effects_--don't go off altogether for hours after the operation. Mr. Pringle thinks he can't have been thoroughly awake---- PRINGLE. [_Rising._] But I am now--I am _now_! HORACE. Oh, he is _now_--quite serious and sensible, and generally himself again. [_A general murmur of polite satisfaction._ MR. WACKERBATH. [_Advancing towards PRINGLE._] I'm sure I'm very pleased to hear it, Mr. Pringle! Especially as it permits us to hope that we may still have the--ah--pleasure of your company. [_The others echo this sentiment in a somewhat half-hearted manner._ PRINGLE. You're extremely kind--but I think perhaps I shall be better at home. MRS. FUTVOYE. [_In a motherly tone._] I'm _sure_ you will, dear Mr. Pringle. What _you_ ought to do is to go to bed and get a good night's sleep. MR. WACKERBATH. [_Obviously relieved._] Ah, well, I won't insist--I won't insist. Perhaps you will give us some other evening? PRINGLE. [_With extreme stiffness._] I'm obliged to you--but I dine out very seldom. Good-night. [_He crosses to MRS. FUTVOYE and shakes hands with her, and bows to MR. and MRS. WACKERBATH, after which MR. WACKERBATH takes_ MRS. FUTVOYE up to the glazed balcony to see the river, which by this time is in bright moonlight, the PROFESSOR, after having said good-night to PRINGLE, following with MRS. WACKERBATH. PRINGLE then turns to SYLVIA, who is standing on the extreme left._] Good-night, Miss Sylvia. May I offer my congratulations? I can only hope that you may be as happy--as happy as--as _possible_. [_Faint waltz music is heard from the restaurant._ SYLVIA. [_Quietly._] Thanks so much, Mr. Pringle, I think I _shall_. [_Giving him her hand._] Good-night. [_She goes up and joins the group in the glazed balcony._ PRINGLE. Good-night. [_He turns to HORACE._] One moment, Ventimore! HORACE. Oh, I'm coming to the door with you, old fellow. [_He is about to go up with him, when PRINGLE detains him._ PRINGLE. I only wanted to ask you this. [_Lowering his voice._] Where _is_ that Jinnee of yours now? HORACE. [_Standing by the sofa by fireplace._] Well,--do you see that patch of silver on the water just above the bridge--[_pointing to the left_]--where they're all looking? PRINGLE. Yes, I see that. What _about_ it? HORACE.