He sprang out of bed, but his quaking knees sunk under him and he fell to the floor.
"This is the weakness of age," he said.
He rose and sought his clothing.

It was clothing no longer.

The colors were gone, the garments gave way in many places while he was putting them on.

He fled, shuddering, into the corridor, and along it to the great hall.

Here he was met by a middle-aged stranger of a kind countenance, who stopped and gazed at him with surprise.