The night landscape, chill and dim, stretched beyond a multitude of roaring mouths, coarse lips, flaming eyes, illuminated by torches, the heads ornamented with a three-colored thing stuck into the caps.  My hand stretched out for support, and met the tight clip of my mother’s fingers.  I knew that she was towering between Marie-Therese and me a fearless palpitating statue.  The devilish roaring mob shot above itself a forced, admiring, piercing cry—­“Long live the queen!” Then all became the humming of bees—­the vibration of a string—­nothing!

X

Blackness surrounded the post-carriage in which I woke, and it seemed to stand in a tunnel that was afire at one end.  Two huge trees, branches and all, were burning on a big hearth, stones glowing under them; and figures with long beards, in black robes, passed betwixt me and the fire, stirring a cauldron.  If ever witches’ brewing was seen, it looked like that.

The last eclipse of mind had come upon me without any rending and tearing in the head, and facts returned clearly and directly.  I saw the black robed figures were Jews cooking supper at a large fireplace, and we had driven upon the brick floor of a post-house which had a door nearly the size of a gable.  At that end spread a ghostly film of open land, forest and sky.  I lay stretched upon cushions as well as the vehicle would permit, and was aware by a shadow which came between me and the Jews that Skenedonk stood at the step.

“What are you about?” I spoke with a rush of chagrin, sitting up.  “Are we on the road to Paris?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“You have made a mistake, Skenedonk!”

“No mistake,” he maintained.  “Wait until I bring you some supper.  After supper we can talk.”

“Bring the supper at once then, for I am going to talk now.”

“Are you quite awake?”

“Quite awake.  How long did it last this time?”

“Two days.”

“We are not two days’ journey out of Mittau?”

“Yes.”

“Well, when you have horses put in to-morrow morning, turn them back to Mittau.”

Skenedonk went to the gigantic hearth, and one of the Jews ladled him out a bowlful of the cauldron stew, which he brought to me.

The stuff was not offensive and I was hungry.  He brought another bowlful for himself, and we ate as we had often done in the woods.  The fire shone on his bald pate and gave out the liquid lights of his fawn eyes.

“I have made a fool of myself in Mittau, Skenedonk.”

“Why do you want to go back?”

“Because I am not going to be thrown out of the palace without a hearing.”

“What is the use?” said Skenedonk.  “The old fat chief will not let you stay.  He doesn’t want to hear you talk.  He wants to be king himself.”

“Did you see me sprawling on the floor like the idiot?”

“Not like the idiot.  Your face was down.”