Paul was glad of the opportunity, and accepted with alacrity. He
hoped in the quiet of a midnight conversation to discover something
about this peculiar man and his home. Perhaps he should also learn
something of the girl, her strange life, and the Guirs.

"We may not be so comfortable as we would be in our beds," continued
the elder man, "but there is a certain comfort in discomfort which
ought not to be undervalued. Sleep, to be enjoyed, should be
discouraged rather than courted."

"Yes," answered Paul, "I believe Shakespeare has told us something
about it in his famous soliloquy on that subject."

"True," replied Ah Ben, "and I suppose there is no one living who has
not felt the delusion of comfort. Like many other material blessings,
it is to be had only in pills."

Ah Ben had stretched his legs out toward the hearth, and while
passing his hand across his withered cheek, had closed his eyes in
reverie. The dim and uncertain shadows made the room seem like some
vast cavern, whose walls were mythical and whose recesses unexplored.
The lamp had expired to a single spark, and there was nothing to
reveal their presence to each other except the red glow from the
embers.

"No," said the man, continuing to speak with his eyes still closed,
"luxury is not necessary to a man's happiness, although he has
persuaded himself that it is so."