where
he was, he was lying on the floor of the tapestry room close to the part
of the wall where stood, or hung, the castle with the long flight of
steps, which Jeanne and he had so wished to enter. And from the other
side of the tapestry--from inside the castle, one might almost say--came
the voice he had heard in his sleep, the voice which seemed to have
awakened him.

"Good-night, Cheri," it said, "good-night. I have gone home the other
way."

"Jeanne, Jeanne, where are you? Wait!" cried Hugh, starting to his feet.
But there was no reply.

Hugh looked all round. The room seemed just the same as usual, and if he
had looked out of the window, though this he did not know, he would have
seen the old raven on the terrace marching about, and, in his usual
philosophical way, failing the sunshine, enjoying the moonlight; while
down in the chickens' house, in the corner of the yard, Houpet and his
friends were calmly roosting; fat little Nibble soundly sleeping in his
cage, cuddled up in the hay; poor, placid Grignan reposing in his usual
corner under the laurel bush. All these things Hugh would have seen, and
would no doubt have wondered much at them. But though neither tired nor
cold, he was still sleepy, very sleepy, so, after another stare all
round, he decided that he would defer further inquiry till the morning,
and in the meantime follow the advice of Jeanne's farewell "good-night."

And "after all," he said to himself, as he climbed up into his
comfortable bed, "after all, bed is very nice, even though that little
carriage was awfully jolly, and the boat almost better. What fun it will
be to talk about it all to-morrow morning with Jeanne."

It was rather queer when to-morrow morning came--when he woke to find it
had come, at least; it was rather queer to see everything looking just
the same as on other to-morrow mornings. Hugh had not time to think very
much about it, for it had been Marcelline's knock at the door that had
wakened him, and she told him it was rather later than usual. Hugh,
however, was so eager to see Jeanne and talk over with her their
wonderful adventures that he needed no hurrying. But, to his surprise,
when he got to Jeanne's room, where as usual their "little breakfast"
was prepared for them on the table by the fire, Jeanne was seated on her
low chair, drinking her coffee in her every-day manner, not the least
different from what she always was, not in any particular hurry to see
him, nor