The horns had fallen silent and the exhausted hounds were sleeping by now in their kennels.

‘Let us go back,’ the young woman said. They returned.

Just as they reached the château and were about to enter, she murmured in a faint voice: ‘I’m so tired, my friend, I’m going straight to bed.’ As he opened his arms for one last kiss she fled, with the parting words: ‘No … to sleep … but … let him who loves me follow me!’

An hour later when the whole sleeping château seemed dead to the world the Baron crept on tiptoe out of his room and scratched at the door of his friend. Receiving no reply he made to open it and found it unbolted.

She was leaning dreamily with her elbows on the window ledge. He threw himself at her knees which he showered with mad kisses through her nightdress. She said nothing, but ran her dainty fingers caressingly through the Baron’s hair. Suddenly, as if coming to a momentous decision, she disengaged herself and whispered provocatively: ‘Wait for me. I shall be back.’ Her finger raised in shadow pointed to the far end of the room where loomed the vague white shape of her bed.

With wildly trembling hands he undressed quickly by feel and slipped between the cool sheets. He stretched out in bliss and almost forgot his friend as his weary body yielded to the linen’s caress. Doubtless enjoying the strain on his patience, still she did not return. He closed his eyes in exquisitely pleasurable anticipation. His most cherished dream was about to come true. Little by little his limbs relaxed, as did his mind, where thoughts drifted, vague and indistinct. He succumbed at last to the power of great fatigue and finally fell asleep.

He slept the heavy, impenetrable sleep of the exhausted huntsman. He slept indeed till dawn. Then from a nearby tree through the still half-open window came the ringing cry of a cock. Startled awake, the Baron’s eyes flew open. Finding himself, to his great surprise, in a strange bed and with a woman’s body lying against his he remembered nothing and stammered as he struggled into consciousness: ‘What? Where am I? What is it?’

At this, she, who had not slept a wink, looked at the puffy, red-eyed and dishevelled man at her side. She answered in the same dismissive tone she took with her husband. ‘Nothing,’ she said, ‘it’s a cock. Go back to sleep, Monsieur. It’s nothing to do with you.’

MOONLIGHT