There's _nothing_ makes people go to sleep so fast as trying to keep awake." "Well, don't try then," said Jeanne, "and see what comes then." And when night came, Hugh, partly perhaps because he was particularly sleepy--the day had been so much finer that the children had had some splendid runs up and down the long terrace walk in the garden, and the unusual exercise had made both of them very ready for bed when the time came--took Jeanne's advice, tucked himself up snugly and went off to sleep without thinking of the moonlight, or the peacocks, or Dudu, or anything.

He slept so soundly, that when he awoke he thought it was morning, and brighter morning than had hitherto greeted him since he came to Jeanne's home.
"Dear me!" he said to himself, rubbing his eyes, "it must be very late; it looks just as if summer had come," for the whole room was flooded with light--such beautiful light--bright and clear, and yet soft.

No wonder that Hugh rubbed his eyes in bewilderment--it was not till he sat up in bed and looked well about him, quite awake now, that he saw that after all it was moonlight, not sunshine, which was illumining the old tapestry room and everything which it contained in this wonderful way.
"Oh, how pretty it is!" thought Hugh.

"No wonder Marcelline told us that we should see the tapestry in the moonlight.

I never could have thought it would have looked so pretty.