He was ship-wrecked in an open boat at sea, and having
lost his clothes, had no other covering than an old sail; and yet a
creeping hand, tracing outside all the other pockets of the dress he
actually wore, for papers, and finding none answer its touch, warned him
to rouse himself. He was in the ancient vault at Cripple Corner, to
which was transferred the very bed substantial and present in that very
room at Basle; and Wilding (not dead, as he had supposed, and yet he did
not wonder much) shook him, and whispered, "Look at that man! Don't you
see he has risen, and is turning the pillow? Why should he turn the
pillow, if not to seek those papers that are in your breast? Awake!" And
yet he slept, and wandered off into other dreams.
Watchful and still, with his elbow on the table, and his head upon that
hand, his companion at length said: "Vendale! We are called. Past
Four!" Then, opening his eyes, he saw, turned sideways on him, the filmy
face of Obenreizer.
"You have been in a heavy sleep," he said. "The fatigue of constant
travelling and the cold!"
"I am broad awake now," cried Vendale, springing up, but with an unsteady
footing. "Haven't you slept at all?"
"I may have dozed, but I seem to have been patiently looking at the fire.
Whether or no, we must wash, and breakfast, and turn out. Past four,
Vendale; past four!"
It was said in a tone to rouse him, for already he was half asleep again.
In his preparation for the day, too, and at his breakfast, he was often
virtually asleep while in mechanical action.
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