With an indescribable effort I broke the spell that bound me, and
started to my feet with a gasp.

I was wide awake, but the broad, wicked face of Colonel Gaillarde was
staring, white as death, at me from the other side of the hearth. "Where
is she?" I shuddered.

"That depends on who she is, Monsieur," replied the Colonel, curtly.

"Good heavens!" I gasped, looking about me.

The Colonel, who was eyeing me sarcastically, had had his _demitasse_
of _cafe noir_, and now drank his _tasse_, diffusing a pleasant
perfume of brandy.

"I fell asleep and was dreaming," I said, lest any strong language,
founded on the _role_ he played in my dream, should have escaped
me. "I did not know for some moments where I was."

"You are the young gentleman who has the apartments over the Count and
Countess de St. Alyre?" he said, winking one eye, close in meditation,
and glaring at me with the other.

"I believe so--yes," I answered.

"Well, younker, take care you have not worse dreams than that some
night," he said, enigmatically, and wagged his head with a chuckle.
"Worse dreams," he repeated.