“I think I am all right,” I answered briefly.
As I replied, I touched my fingers to the covering of the _dormeuse_
about me. It was not satin, nor velvet, as I had supposed; but a kind
of silk so closely woven that I guessed it to be for purposes of
insulation. Leaning over I now noticed also for the first time that the
four legs of my chair were shod with glass.
When I sat up again, I saw the Marquis Gaspard standing in front of me.
“Monsieur,” said he, with the very greatest gentleness in his manner
and tone of voice, “Monsieur, the dawn will soon be upon us. We can
delay no longer now. You are quite sure you have no objection to our
beginning?”
One last wave of anguished rebellion gathered in my throat, and choked
me. Nevertheless, I shook my head impatiently, to indicate that I had
no objection whatever.
“That is better than I dared hope,” the marquis exclaimed; “I cannot
tell how grateful to you I am!”
He was looking at me with an emotion that quite surprised me. Visibly
affected, and with some hesitation, he resumed:
“Monsieur, there is one thought which I cannot bear your having even
for a single moment: the thought that you have fallen, this night, into
the hands of heartless, inhuman men.”