masking, his cheek, the cheek of a beautiful woman, once more resting on the gold bracelet that he wore on his left arm.
Reutler shut the trap-door behind him.
"God exists!" he murmured, looking down at that peaceful tableau.
Before Paul-Eric had gone to sleep there; he had drawn the great shade across the dome of the observatory, not wishing to be awakened too early by daylight. Around him was already the beginning of the reddening dawn, a tender rosy, light soon to be that of the sun. The ambergris with which was saturated the idol in its niche filled the cell of the learned Reutler, which was in fact completely turned upside down. The books pulled out of the open bookcases were scattered about in a sea; on the edge of the alchemist's furnace sparkled a glass of champagne, with its bubbles; a page of figures, Reutler's metereological calculations, was spread out in the middle of a desk; a fan thrown across it, had its margins covered with wonderful little drawings—obscene ones. Evidently the boy had been entertaining himself!
Reutler went to a closet, took out a slender flask, and poured, its contents into the champagne.
"There will be enough for two," he said to himself—"I hope we shall not have time to suffer …"
Once more, he listened sharply.
A dull roaring came up; under his feet it was beginning to grow warm. He caressed Paul-Eric's hair gently, and awakened him.
"What! Really day again!" exclaimed the young man, ill-humouredly, rubbing his eyelids.
"Yes—it is dawn!" answered Reutler, smiling.
Paul looked sharply at Reutler, and smiled in his turn. " You're awfully good to come up to—but what's happened to you?" Reutler had forgotten that he was in his shirt-sleeves; he, always so punctilious in his dress when with Paul-Eric.
"If only he does not guess anything!" he said to himself; then gently adding, catching up the champagne; "Aren't you thirsty, Eric?"
"There you are again!" cried Eric pettishly, "the traditional moral lecture is going to begin! They've been telling you that I was tipsy last night, and so you are going to talk hygiene to me?" His voice became that of a plaintive child. "You are always putting me into penitence, for something—you treat me like a schoolboy!— 336 —
