In a few moments that
seemed like hours to me, I fell asleep again. This time it was a
quiet, dreamless slumber, which restored me greatly, and refreshed my
looks and my humor for breakfast.
When I awoke a second time, a bright morning sunshine flooded the
room. The birds sang lustily outside my window, carts and carriages
rumbled along the road; bells were ringing and all the voices of
industry and activity were united in a great chorus which proclaimed
the advent of another day.
No one spoke of my tragic experience when I appeared at the breakfast
table. Madame de Beaumont and her son were already in the dining-room
when I went down, and we took our seats almost immediately. Hortense
was still sleeping, they said, and looked quite refreshed after the
night.
"I hope I did not disturb her when I screamed?" I ventured to remark.
"When you screamed!" Madame de Beaumont exclaimed in bewilderment.
"Yes! did you not hear me?" I asked, just as astonished.
"No indeed," she answered, "did you Bayard?" turning towards her son
who sat at the upper end of the table.
"Miss Hampden had supper too late last night," he said, evading a
direct reply, "and that with traveling, and the excitement of seeing
Hortense so very ill, would disturb any one's slumber."
I thought he intended that the subject of my nightmare, should be
summarily dismissed with this explanation, and feeling a little
unkindness in the arbitrary way in which he expressed himself, I
turned to Madame de Beaumont and with a self-justifying tone remarked:
"It is the first time in my life I have ever had a nightmare, and I
cannot account for it.
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