"Mmmm!" exclaimed Durtal, "if I had to get up so early!"

"It's all a matter of habit. But before you go won't you have another
little drink? No? Really? Well, good night!"

He lighted his lantern, and in single file, shivering, they descended
the glacial, pitch-dark, winding stair.




CHAPTER VI


Next morning Durtal woke later than usual. Before he opened his eyes
there was a sudden flash of light in his brain, and troops of demon
worshippers, like the societies of which Des Hermies had spoken, went
defiling past him, dancing a saraband. "A swarm of lady acrobats hanging
head downward from trapezes and praying with joined feet!" he said,
yawning. He looked at the window. The panes were flowered with crystal
fleurs de lys and frost ferns. Then he quickly drew his arms back under
the covers and snuggled up luxuriously.

"A fine day to stay at home and work," he said. "I will get up and light
a fire. Come now, a little courage--" and--instead of tossing the covers
aside he drew them up around his chin.

"Ah, I know that you are not pleased to see me taking a morning off," he
said, addressing his cat, which was hunched up on the counterpane at his
feet, gazing at him fixedly, its eyes very black.