Chapter 34

           WherewentCassiusCalhoun?

           Certainlynottohisownsleeping-room.Therewasnosleepforaspiritsufferinglikehis.

           Hewentnotthere;buttothechamberofhiscousin.Nothers—nowuntenanted,withitscouchunoccupied,itscoverletundisturbed—buttothatofherbrother,youngHenryPoindexter.

           Hewentdirectascrookedcorridorswouldpermithim—inhaste,withoutwaitingtoavailhimselfoftheassistanceofacandle.

           Itwasnotneeded.Themoonbeamspenetratingthroughtheopenbarsofthereja,filledthechamberwithlight—sufficientforhispurpose.Theydisclosedtheoutlinesoftheapartment,withitssimplefurniture—awashstand,adressing-table,acoupleofchairs,andabedwith"mosquitocurtains."

           Underthoselastwastheyouthreclining;inthatsweetsilentslumberexperiencedonlybytheinnocent.Hisfinelyformedheadrestedcalmlyuponthepillow,overwhichlayscatteredaprofusionofshiningcurls.

           AsCalhounliftedthemuslin"bar,"themoonbeamsfelluponhisface,displayingitsoutlinesofthemanliestaristocratictype.

           Whatacontrastbetweenthosetwosetsoffeatures,broughtintosuchcloseproximity!Bothphysicallyhandsome;butmorally,asHyperiontotheSatyr.

           "Awake,Harry!awake!"wastheabruptsalutationextendedtothesleeper,accompaniedbyaviolentshakingofhisshoulder.