Almost an hour had passed before the Count returned. "Aha!" he said. "Still at your books? Good! But you must not work always. Come! I am told that your supper is ready." He took my arm, and we went into the next room, where I found an excellent supper ready on the table. The Count again did not eat, because he had eaten while he was away from home. But he sat with me, as he had the night before, and chatted whilst I ate. After supper I smoked, and the Count stayed with me as he had done before, chatting and asking questions on every possible subject, talking for hour after hour.

I felt that it was getting very late indeed, but I did not say anything. I felt that because I was a guest, I should do as my host wanted. I was not sleepy, as the long sleep yesterday had strengthened me, but I could not help getting that feeling of cold that you get at the coming of the dawn. In a way it feels like the turn of the tide. They say that people who are near death often die at dawn or at the turn of the tide. Anyone who has felt this change in the atmosphere can believe this, especially if they are tired, and still working. Suddenly we heard the sound of a cock greeting the morning with preternatural shrillness in the clear morning air.