An Uncomfortable Bed

One autumn I went to stay for the hunting season with some friends in a
chateau in Picardy.

My friends were fond of practical joking, as all my friends are. I do
not care to know any other sort of people.

When I arrived, they gave me a princely reception, which at once
aroused distrust in my breast. We had some capital shooting. They
embraced me, they cajoled me, as if they expected to have great fun at
my expense.

I said to myself:

"Look out, old ferret! They have something in preparation for you."

During the dinner, the mirth was excessive, far too great, in fact. I
thought: "Here are people who take a double share of amusement, and
apparently without reason. They must be looking out in their own minds
for some good bit of fun. Assuredly I am to be the victim of the joke.
Attention!"

During the entire evening, everyone laughed in an exaggerated fashion.
I smelled a practical joke in the air, as a dog smells game. But what
was it? I was watchful, restless. I did not let a word or a meaning or
a gesture escape me. Everyone seemed to me an object of suspicion, and
I even looked distrustfully at the faces of the servants.

The hour rang for going to bed, and the whole household came to escort
me to my room. Why? They called to me: "Good night." I entered the
apartment, shut the door, and remained standing, without moving a
single step, holding the wax candle in my hand.

I heard laughter and whispering in the corridor. Without doubt they
were spying on me. I cast a glance around the walls, the furniture, the
ceiling, the hangings, the floor. I saw nothing to justify suspicion. I
heard persons moving about outside my door. I had no doubt they were
looking through the keyhole.

An idea came into my head: "My candle may suddenly go out, and leave me
in darkness."

Then I went across to the mantelpiece, and lighted all the wax candles
that were on it. After that, I cast another glance around me without
discovering anything. I advanced with short steps, carefully examining
the apartment. Nothing. I inspected every article one after the other.
Still nothing. I went over to the window. The shutters, large wooden
shutters, were open. I shut them with great care, and then drew the
curtains, enormous velvet curtains, and I placed a chair in front of
them, so as to have nothing to fear from without.

Then I cautiously sat down. The armchair was solid. I did not venture
to get into the bed. However, time was flying; and I ended by coming
to the conclusion that I was ridiculous. If they were spying on me, as
I supposed, they must, while waiting for the success of the joke they
had been preparing for me, have been