"Won't you give him some kind of a bed?" she asked Croppo.
"Bah! he can sleep on the onions," responded that worthy. "If he had
been more civil and intelligent he should have had something to eat. You
three," he went on, turning to the other men, "sleep in the kitchen,
and watch that the prisoner does not escape. The door has a strong bolt
besides. Come, Valeria."
And the pair disappeared, leaving me in a dense gloom, strongly pervaded
by an ordour of fungus and decaying onions. Groping into one of the
casks, I found some straw, and spreading it on a piece of plank, I
prepared to pass the night sitting with my back to the driest piece
of wall I could find, which happened to be immediately under the
air-hole--a fortunate circumstance, as the closeness was often stifling.
I had probably been dozing for some time in a sitting position, when I
felt something tickle the top of my head. The idea that it might be a
large spider caused me to start, when, stretching up my hand, it came in
contact with what seemed to be a rag, which I had not observed. Getting
carefully up, I perceived a faint light gleaming through the aperture,
and then saw that a hand was protruded through it, apparently waving the
rag. As I felt instinctively that the hand was Valeria's, I seized the
finger-tips, which was all I could get hold of, and pressed them to
my lips.
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