The Cornet was still not asleep. He turned at once in his bed and faced the Count.

“Not asleep yet?” asked the Count.

“No.”

“Shall I tell you what has happened?”

“Well?”

“No, I’d better not⁠ ⁠… or, all right, I’ll tell you: draw in your legs.”

And the Count, having mentally abandoned the intrigue that had miscarried, sat down on his comrade’s bed with an animated smile.

“Would you believe it, that young lady gave me a rendezvous!”

“What are you saying?” cried Pólozof, jumping out of bed.