"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.
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