“Why, I did think—”
“Ah! that’s deceived many a one. Lord bless you, sir, they are not understood, no one knows them; “and at these words he heaved a profound sigh, and dropped his head upon his bosom, as though the sentiment had overwhelmed him with affliction.
“Riddles, sir,” said he to me, with a glare of his eyes that really looked formidable,—“sphinxes; that’s what they are. Are you married?” whispered he.
“No, sir,” said I, politely; for as I began to entertain more serious doubts of my companion’s intellect, I resolved to treat him with every civility.
“I don’t believe it matters a fig,” said he; “the Pope of Rome knows as much about them as Bluebeard.”
“Indeed,” said I, “are these your sentiments?”
“They are,” replied he, in a still lower whisper; “and if we were to talk modern Greek this moment, I would not say but she”—and here he made a gesture towards the young lady opposite—“but she would know every word of it. It is not supernatural, sir, because the law is universal; but it is a most—what shall I say, sir?—a most extraordinary provision of nature,—wonderful! most wonderful!”
“In Heaven’s name, why did they let him out?” exclaimed I to myself.
“Now she is pretending to awake,” said he, as he nudged me with his elbow; “watch her, see how well she will do it.” Then turning to the lady, he added in a louder voice,—
“You have had a refreshing sleep, I trust, ma’am?”