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Well, _vive la
guerre!_ why not? Only, unfortunately, I had no recollection of these
previous conditions. The idea was so absurd to me that I burst out
laughing, and, addressing the sculptured picture of a grim-looking
warrior on the cave wall, called out to him aloud, "Who knows, old
fellow?--perhaps I was your contemporary. By Jove! perhaps I was you and
you are I," and then I laughed again at my own folly, and the sound of
my laughter rang dismally along the vaulted roof, as though the ghost of
the warrior had echoed the ghost of a laugh.
Next I bethought me that I had not been to see how Leo was, so, taking
up one of the lamps which was burning at my bedside, I slipped off my
shoes and crept down the passage to the entrance of his sleeping cave.
The draught of the night air was lifting his curtain to and fro gently,
as though spirit hands were drawing and redrawing it. I slid into the
vault-like apartment, and looked round. There was a light by which I
could see that Leo was lying on the couch, tossing restlessly in his
fever, but asleep.


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