Decidedly, the Hindus of the nineteenth century
are a degenerate and blaspheming race!
In the course of the morning we learned that this swinging throne
of his, and an ancient sofa, were the only pieces of furniture in
the whole house that could be transformed into beds.
Neither of our gentlemen had spent a comfortable night. They slept
in an empty tower that was once the altar of a decayed pagoda and
was situated behind the main building. In assigning to them this
strange resting place, the host was guided by the praiseworthy
intention of protecting them from the jackals, which freely penetrate
into all the rooms of the ground floor, as they are pierced by
numberless arches and have no door and no window frames. The jackals,
however, did not trouble the gentlemen much that night, except by
giving their nightly concert. But both Mr. Y--- and the colonel
had to fight all the night long with a vampire, which, besides
being a flying fox of an unusual size, happened to be a spirit,
as we learned too late, to our great misfortune.
This is how it happened. Noiselessly hovering about the tower,
the vampire from time to time alighted on the sleepers, making
them shudder under the disgusting touch of his cold sticky wings.
His intention clearly was to get a nice suck of European blood.
They were wakened by his manipulations at least ten times, and
each time frightened him away. But, as soon as they were dozing
again, the wretched bat was sure to return and perch on their
shoulders, heads, or legs.
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