It is not a very soft one, but it is better than the sand--and there are no hyenas sniffing about it!" The stair, narrow and steep, led straight up from the room to an unceiled and unpartitioned garret, with one wide, low dormer window.
Close under the sloping roof stood a narrow bed, the sight of which with its white coverlet made me shiver, so vividly it recalled the couches in the chamber of death.

On the table was a dry loaf, and beside it a cup of cold water.

To me, who had tasted nothing but fruit for months, they were a feast.
"I must leave you in the dark," my hostess called from the bottom of the stair.

"This lantern is all the light I have, and there are things to do to-night." "It is of no consequence, thank you, madam," I returned.

"To eat and drink, to lie down and sleep, are things that can be done in the dark." "Rest in peace," she said.
I ate up the loaf, drank the water every drop, and laid myself down.
The bed was hard, the covering thin and scanty, and the night cold: I dreamed that I lay in the chamber of death, between the warrior and the lady with the healing wound.
I woke in the middle of the night, thinking I heard low noises of wild animals.
"Creatures of the desert scenting after me, I suppose!" I said to myself, and, knowing I was safe, would have gone to sleep again.