The baron found himself in almost total darkness, for the last embers of the fire, which was dying out, gave out but a feeble flickering light. The atmosphere was warm and heavy with the perfumes which denote the most assiduous attention to the toilet. "Ah! thanks, viscount," said Canolles; "in truth, one is much more comfortable here than in the corridor." "You are anxious to go to sleep, baron?" "Yes, most assuredly. Tell me which is my bed, or let me light the candle." "No, no, it's useless!" said the viscount, hastily. "Your bed is here at the left." As the viscount's left was the baron's right, the baron turned to the left, fell in with a window, near the window a small table, and upon the table the bell which the agitated viscount had sought in vain. To make assurance doubly sure, he put the bell in his pocket. "What did you say?" he cried. "Are we playing at blind-man's buff? You ought at least to cry _casse-cou._ What the devil are you fumbling for there in the dark?" "I am looking for the bell, to call Pompée." "But what the devil do you want of Pompée?" "I want--I want him to make up a bed beside mine." "For whom?" "For himself." "For himself! What are you talking about, viscount? Servants in our room! Go to! you act like a frightened girl. Fie, fie! we are old enough to defend ourselves. No; just give me your hand and guide me to my bed, which I cannot find--or else let us light the candle." "No, no, no!" cried the viscount. "If you won't give me your hand, you ought at least to pass me the end of a thread; for I am in a veritable labyrinth." He walked, with arms outstretched, in the direction from which the voice came; but he saw something like a shadow flit by him, accompanied by a wave of sweetest perfume; he closed his arms, but, like Virgil's Orpheus, embraced nothing but air. "There! there!" said the viscount at the other end of the room; "you are close beside your bed, baron." "Which of the two is mine?" "It matters little! I shall not go to bed." "What's that! you won't go to bed?" exclaimed Canolles, turning about at this imprudent speech; "what will you do, pray?" "I shall pass the night on a chair." "Nonsense!" said Canolles. "I certainly shall not allow any such child's play; come, viscount, come!" As the fire on the hearth blazed up for an instant before dying altogether, Canolles caught sight of the viscount crouching in a corner between the window and the commode, wrapped in his cloak. The blaze was no more than a flash; but it was sufficient to guide the baron and to make the viscount understand that he was lost. Canolles walked straight toward him with arms outstretched, and although the room was dark once more, the poor fellow realized that he could not again elude his pursuer. "Baron! baron!" he faltered; "come no nearer, I implore you; not a step nearer, if you are a gentleman!"