and had no other door of its own. It was a hot night in July, and Braun
asked me to leave the door open. I did--we opened both the windows.
Braun went to bed and fell asleep almost directly, for very soon I heard
his snores.

"I had imagined that I was longing for sleep, but no sooner had I got
into bed than all my sleepiness left me. This was odd, because we had
walked a good many miles, and it had been a blazing hot day, and up till
then I had slept like a log the moment I got into bed. I lit a candle
and began reading a small volume of Heine I carried with me. I heard the
clock strike ten, and then eleven, and still I felt that sleep was out
of the question. I said to myself: 'I will read till twelve and then I
will stop.' My watch was on a chair by my bedside, and when the clock
struck eleven I noticed that it was five minutes slow, and set it right.
I could see the church tower from my window, and every time the clock
struck--and it struck the quarters--the noise boomed through the room.

"When the clock struck a quarter to twelve I yawned for the first time,
and I felt thankful that sleep seemed at last to be coming to me. I left
off reading, and taking my watch in my hand I waited for midnight to
strike. This quarter of an hour seemed an eternity. At last the hands
of my watch showed that it was one minute to twelve. I put out my candle
and began counting sixty, waiting for the clock to strike. I had counted
a hundred and sixty, and still the clock had not struck. I counted up to
four hundred; then I thought I must have made a mistake. I lit my candle
again, and looked at my watch: it was two minutes past twelve. And still
the clock had not struck!

"A curious uncomfortable feeling came over me, and I sat up in bed
with my watch in my hand and longed to call Braun, who was peacefully