They crossed a terrace, forced to turn aside at every step by the
dogs who growled fiercely,--apparently regretting "these amiable
hosts" the supper of which they had been deprived. Following his
guide Gilbert found himself upon a little winding staircase, which
they ascended to the third story, where the valet, opening an
arched door, introduced him into a large circular apartment where a
bed with a canopy had been prepared. "This is your room," said he
curtly, and having lighted two candles and placed them upon the
round table, he left the room, and did not return for half an hour,
when he re-appeared bearing a tray laden with a samovar, a venison
pie, and some cold fowl. Gilbert ate with a good appetite and felt
great satisfaction in finding that he had any at all. "My foolish
reveries," thought he, "have not spoiled my stomach at least."

Gilbert was still at the table when the valet re-entered and handed
him a note from the Count, which ran thus:

"M. Leminoff bids M. Gilbert Saville welcome. He will give himself
the pleasure of calling upon him to-morrow morning."

"To-morrow we shall commence the serious business of life," said
Gilbert to himself, as he enjoyed a cup of exquisite green tea,
"and I'm very glad of it, for I don't approve of the use I make of
my leisure. I have passed all this day reasoning upon myself,
dissecting my mind and heart,--a most foolish pastime, beyond a
doubt"--then drawing from his pocket a note-book, he wrote therein
these words: "Forget thyself, forget thyself, forget thyself,"
imitating the philosopher Kant, who being inconsolable at the loss
of an old servant named Lamp, wrote in his journal: "Remember to
forget Lamp."