With some difficulty I readjusted myself in bed.  It was now early morning, and the first rays of the sun were beginning to penetrate the white curtains of a window on my left, which probably looked into the garden, as I caught a glimpse or two of the leaves of trees through a small uncovered part at the side.  For some time I felt uneasy and anxious, my spirits being in a strange fluttering state.  At last my eyes fell upon a small row of tea-cups seemingly of china, which stood on a mantelpiece exactly fronting the bottom of the bed.  The sight of these objects, I know not why, soothed and pacified me; I kept my eyes fixed upon them, as I lay on my back on the bed, with my head upon the pillow, till at last I fell into a calm and refreshing sleep.

CHAPTER XXXII

The Morning after a Fall—­The Teapot—­Unpretending Hospitality—­The Chinese Student.

It might be about eight o’clock in the morning when I was awakened by the entrance of the old man.  “How have you rested?” said he, coming up to the bedside, and looking me in the face.  “Well,” said I, “and I feel much better, but I am still very sore.”  I surveyed him now for the first time with attention.  He was dressed in a sober-coloured suit, and was apparently between sixty and seventy.  In stature he was rather above the middle height, but with a slight stoop; his features were placid, and expressive of much benevolence, but, as it appeared to me, with rather a melancholy cast—­as I gazed upon them, I felt ashamed that I should ever have conceived in my brain a vision like that of the preceding night, in which he appeared in so disadvantageous a light.  At length he said, “It is now time for you to take some refreshment.  I hear my old servant coming up with your breakfast.”  In a moment the elderly female entered with a tray, on which was some bread and butter, a teapot and cup.  The cup was of common blue earthenware, but the pot was of china, curiously fashioned, and seemingly of great antiquity.  The old man poured me out a cupful of tea, and then, with the assistance of the woman, raised me higher, and propped me up with the pillows.  I ate and drank; when the pot was emptied of its liquid (it did not contain much), I raised it up with my left hand to inspect it.  The sides were covered with curious characters, seemingly hieroglyphics.  After surveying them for some time, I replaced it upon the tray.  “You seem fond of china,” said I, to the old man, after the servant had retired with the breakfast things, and I had returned to my former posture; “you have china on the mantelpiece, and that was a remarkable teapot out of which I have just been drinking.”

The old man fixed his eyes intently on me, and methought the expression of his countenance became yet more melancholy.  “Yes,” said he, at last, “I am fond of china—­I have reason to be fond of china—­but for china I should—­” and here he sighed again.