“Who?”
“Beausire, my lover. Be quick, sir!”
“Nonsense!”
“He will half murder you.”
“Bah!”
“Do you hear how he knocks?”
“Well, open the door.” And he sat down again on the sofa, saying to himself, “I must see this fellow, and judge what he is like.”
The knocks became louder, and mingled with oaths.
“Go, mother, and open the door,” cried Oliva. “As for you, sir, if any harm happens to you, it is your own fault.”