eleven o’clock before
Our host regaled us with a hospitality that notably contrasted his economical thrifty habits in London . To be sure , Bolt had caught the great pike which headed the feast ; and Bolt , no doubt , had helped to rear those fine chickens ab ovo ; Bolt , I have no doubt , made that excellent Spanish omelette ; and , for the rest , the products of the sheepwalk and the garden came in as volunteer auxiliaries , -- very different from the mercenary recruits by which those metropolitan Condottieri , the butcher and greengrocer , hasten the ruin of that melancholy commonwealth called `` genteel poverty . '' Our evening passed cheerfully ; and Roland , contrary to his custom , was talker in chief . It was eleven o'clock before Bolt appeared with a lantern to conduct me through the courtyard to my dormitory among the ruins , -- a ceremony which , every night , shine or dark , he insisted upon punctiliously performing . It was long before I could sleep ; before I could believe that but so few days had elapsed since Roland heard of his son 's death , -- that son whose fate had so long tortured him ; and yet , never had Roland appeared so free from sorrow ! Was it natural , was it effort ? Several days passed before I could answer that question , and then not wholly to my satisfaction .