My friends were fond of practical joking, as all my friends are. I do
not care to know any other sort of people.

When I arrived, they gave me a princely reception, which at once
aroused distrust in my breast. We had some capital shooting. They
embraced me, they cajoled me, as if they expected to have great fun at
my expense.

I said to myself:

"Look out, old ferret! They have something in preparation for you."

During the dinner, the mirth was excessive, far too great, in fact. I
thought: "Here are people who take a double share of amusement, and
apparently without reason. They must be looking out in their own minds
for some good bit of fun. Assuredly I am to be the victim of the joke.
Attention!"

During the entire evening, everyone laughed in an exaggerated fashion.
I smelled a practical joke in the air, as a dog smells game. But what
was it? I was watchful, restless. I did not let a word or a meaning or
a gesture escape me. Everyone seemed to me an object of suspicion, and
I even looked distrustfully at the faces of the servants.

The hour rang for going to bed, and the whole household came to escort
me to my room. Why? They called to me: "Good night." I entered the
apartment, shut the door, and remained standing, without moving a
single step, holding the wax candle in my hand.