“*WHERE AM 1?” 95

vitiated—my breathing becomes difficult— my chest feels
crushed by a weight from which I cannot free myself.

I want to resist; it is impossible. I am obliged to
stretch myself in a corner and to remove some of my
clothes, so hot has the place become. My eyelids grow
heavy, they close, and I fall into a state of prostration,
which is followed by a deep sleep.

How long have I slept? I don’t know. Is it day, or is
it night? Iam unable to guess; but I notice in the first
place that my breathing is easier. My lungs are full ofair
which is not poisoned with carbonic acid.

Had the air been renewed while I slept? Had the
compartment been opened? Had someone entered the
narrow retreat?

Yes; and I have the proof of this. My hand, by
chance, has touched an object, a receptacle full of some
liquid that smells invitingly. I raise it to my lips which
are burning, for I am tormented by thirst, and at this
moment would have been thankful for brackish water!

It is ale—excellent ale—which refreshes me, cheers me.
I drink a whole pint of it.

But since I am clearly not condemned to die of thirst,
I suppose I am not condemned to die of hunger.

No; in one of the corners a basket has been placed,
-and in it I find a hunch of bread and a slice of cold meat.

I eat—I eat eagerly—and my strength comes back by
degrees.

Decidedly I am not so forsaken as I might have been.
Some one has entered this dark hole, and a little of the