for the last time, and shutting the door.

"Ma foi!" said Buvat, following Bourguignon with his eyes, "it must be
allowed that some proverbs are great liars. One says, 'As insolent as a
lackey,' and yet here is an individual practicing that calling, who
nevertheless could not possibly be more polite. I shall never believe in
proverbs again, or rather, I shall make a difference between them."

And making himself this promise, Buvat found himself alone.

Nothing makes a man so hungry as the sight of a good dinner; that which
had just been eaten under the good man's very eyes surpassed in luxury
everything that he had ever dreamed of, and he began--influenced by the
decided calls of his stomach--to reproach himself for his too great
defiance of his persecutors; but it was too late. Buvat, it is true,
might have rung for Monsieur Bourguignon, and requested a second dinner,
but he was of too timid a character for that, and the result was, that
he had to search among his stock of proverbs for the most consoling, and
having found, between his situation and the proverb, "He who sleeps
dines," an analogy which seemed to him most direct, he resolved to make
use of it, and, as he could not dine, to endeavor at least to sleep.

But, at the moment of taking this resolution, Buvat found himself
assailed by new fears. Could they not profit by his sleep to dispatch
him? The night is the time of ambushes--he had often heard his mother
tell of beds which, by the lowering of their canopies, smothered the
unfortunate sleeper; of beds which sank through a trap, so softly as not
to wake the occupant; finally, of secret doors opening in panels, and
even in furniture, to give entrance to assassins. This luxuriant dinner,
these rich wines, had they not been sent him to insure a sounder sleep?
All this was possible, nay, probable, and Buvat, who felt the instinct
of self-preservation in the highest degree, took his candle, and
commenced a most minute investigation. After having opened the doors of
all the cupboards, sounded all the paneling, Buvat had gone down on his
hands and feet, and was stretching his head timidly under the bed, when
he thought he heard steps behind him. The position in which he found
himself did not permit him to act on the defensive; he therefore
remained motionless, and waited with a beating heart. After a few
seconds of solemn silence, which filled Buvat with vague alarms, a voice
said:

"Your pardon; but is not mo