Silence! the worst is yet to come. At dinner all things changed--soup,
before too hot to drink, came to my lips cool as if the north wind had
caressed it; number was at an end; I ranked no longer like a human being;
I was a huge _ought_--a walking cypher--a vile round O. I had neither
beginning nor end. Go where I would--top, bottom, sides, 'twas all the
same. Bouilli avoided me--vegetables declined growing under my eyes--fowls
fled from me. I might as well have longed for ice-cream in
Iceland--dessert in a desert. I had no turn--I was the _last man_.
Nevertheless, dinner was a necessary evil.

READER.--And tea?

Was excluded from the calendar. Night came, but no rest--all things had
forgotten their office. The sheets huddled in undisturbed selfishness,
like knotted cables, in one corner of the bed; the blankets, doubtless
disgusted at their conduct, sought refuge at the foot; and the flock, like
most other flocks, without a directing hand, was scattered in disjointed
heaps.

READER.--Did not you complain?

I did--_imprimis_--to boots--boots scratched his head; ditto
waiter--waiter shook his; the chambermaid, strange to say, was suddenly
deaf.

READER.--And the landlord?

Did nothing all day; but when I spoke, was in a hurry, "going to his
ledger," Had I had as many months as hydra, that would have stopped them
all.