"Come, come!" he protested roughly, "this is useless, madame. I have already once this evening had the pleasure of seeing your tears; I know their value. Besides, you should bear in mind your character; tears are ill-suited to doublet and hose."
Still she sobbed on, unheeding.
He moved impatiently and hummed a tune which quickly wandered away into incoherence. "I would I knew if it were counterfeit," he muttered.
Still she wept, with quick-drawn breath, and short, gasping, helpless sobs, very terrible to a man's ears.
He took two steps towards her, and then paused. "No," he muttered. "I will not. She hath already duped me twice, I will be hanged if I let her do so again. 'Tis but counterfeit."
He turned from her resolutely and seating himself with his back to her waited stolidly until she should see fit to relinquish this last design.
Minute after minute passed. Soon the sobs died away.
"Ah, good!" he thought with a smile. "So my lady has decided to try another plan."
He waited impatiently for her next move. There was no sound in the room save an occasional sobbing gasp.
At last he could wait no longer, but rising quickly hurried to her side. Her eyes were closed and she lay very still. Then he listened for the regular breathing. There was no doubt of the matter, she was asleep, asleep as peacefully as an infant.