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.  It was not until the cold dark day was closing in, that he had any distincter impressions of the ride than jingling bells, bitter weather, slipping horses, frowning hill-sides, bleak woods, and a stoppage at some wayside house of entertainment, where they had passed through a cow-house to reach the travellers’ room above.  He had been conscious of little more, except of Obenreizer sitting thoughtful at his side all day, and eyeing him much.

But when he shook off his stupor, Obenreizer was not at his side.  The carriage was stopping to bait at another wayside house; and a line of long narrow carts, laden with casks of wine, and drawn by horses with a quantity of blue collar and head-gear, were baiting too.  These came from the direction in which the travellers were going, and Obenreizer (not thoughtful now, but cheerful and alert) was talking with the foremost driver.  As Vendale stretched his limbs, circulated his blood, and cleared off the lees of his lethargy, with a sharp run to and fro in the bracing air, the line of carts moved on:  the drivers all saluting Obenreizer as they passed him.

“Who are those?” asked Vendale.

“They are our carriers—­Defresnier and Company’s,” replied Obenreizer.  “Those are our casks of wine.”  He was singing to himself, and lighting a cigar.

“I have been drearily dull company to-day,” said Vendale.  “I don’t know what has been the matter with me.”

“You had no sleep last night; and a kind of brain-congestion frequently comes, at first, of such cold,” said Obenreizer.  “I have seen it often.  After all, we shall have our journey for nothing, it seems.”

“How for nothing?”

“The House is at Milan.  You know, we are a Wine House at Neuchatel, and a Silk House at Milan?  Well, Silk happening to press of a sudden, more than Wine, Defresnier was summoned to Milan.  Rolland, the other partner, has been taken ill since his departure, and the doctors will allow him to see no one.  A letter awaits you at Neuchatel to tell you so.  I have it from our chief carrier whom you saw me talking with.  He was surprised to see me, and said he had that word for you if he met you.  What do you do?  Go back?”