for he sang.

And I listened ...

and stayed! ...

That night, we did not exchange another word.

He sang me to sleep.
"When I woke up, I was alone, lying on a sofa in a simply furnished little bedroom, with an ordinary mahogany bedstead, lit by a lamp standing on the marble top of an old Louis-Philippe chest of drawers.
I soon discovered that I was a prisoner and that the only outlet from my room led to a very comfortable bath-room.