with heavy embroidered curtains. The Baron still scowled at me from the
mantelpiece, but, without returning his gaze, I set to work diligently
to search for the flea. I drew back the top sheet slowly until the whole
bed was uncovered. I shook the blankets and counterpane and looked under
the pillow, but all in vain, not a glimpse of a flea was visible. It was
a clean, well-aired bed, so, feeling now rather sleepy, I covered myself
up with the bed-clothes and blew out the light, with every prospect of
a good night's rest before me. But, alas! how soon was I undeceived.
Hardly had I gone off into my first sleep, when I was suddenly awoke
from a delicious dream with a sharp, sudden pang, like a stab or the
tooth of some venomous reptile in the fleshy part of my thigh. I started
up in horror, hardly able to restrain a slight shriek. The night was
dark and stormy, the winds howled without, and the old mansion shook
from its foundations. "The Phantom Flea!" I muttered, horrified, and
reached out my hand for my tinder-box; but before I was able to strike a
light, I experienced a second sharp stinging pain in the small of the
back, then another in the calf of my leg. By this time I had succeeded
in striking a light. Some scorpion, I thought. So, lighting my candle, I
commenced a rigid search.

At length I caught sight of the vile insect. There it was, sure enough,
a flea, and no mistake about it, but what a monster! It must have been
the size of a coffee bean. What legs! How it hopped from one side of the
bed to the other!

Well, gentlemen, I used my utmost endeavours to capture it; and here let
me add that I am generally rather expert at that sort of game, having
had some practice in my time; but, would you believe it, gentlemen, it
foiled all my best endeavours, although I kept it in sight all the time.
I was a full hour and a half engaged in this undignified chase. The
"Phantom Flea" defied me to the last. What was I to do? I couldn't sit
up all night hunting a flea, and yet to get any sleep with such a
monster in the bed was equally impossible. Suddenly I recollected that I
had a small bottle of opium in my waistcoat pocket, which I had
purchased the day before to relieve a toothache that I had caught from
sitting in the theatre at one end of a row of stalls, close to the door,
which kept continually opening and shutting. I rose and searched for the
bottle, and swallowed more, perhaps, than under ordinary circumstances
wou