At least, if I have slept it has been but for a snatch.

Aid me to take off my gown, Eviot." "May God and the saints send you good rest, my lord," said the page, retiring after he had rendered his wounded master the assistance required.
As Eviot left the room, the knight, whose brain was becoming more and more confused, muttered over the page's departing salutation.
"God--saints--I have slept sound under such a benison.

But now, methinks if I awake not to the accomplishment of my proud hopes of power and revenge, the best wish for me is, that the slumbers which now fall around my head were the forerunners of that sleep which shall return my borrowed powers to their original nonexistence--I can argue it no farther." Thus speaking, he fell into a profound sleep..