“Long live the King!” responded the officer, as if he were trying to make the people in Alexandria Bay aware of his patriotic feeling.
“Bernardo?” exclaimed Francisco, in apparent surprise, though he had been standing within a few feet of the man all the time.
The conversation continued until Horatio and Marcellus joined them, and at once began to speak. Horatio was evidently master of the situation, but poor Marcellus had an attack of stage fright. When it came his turn to speak he began impulsively,—
“And liegemen to—to—to—to—” but he could go no further. Again he began, in lower and more impressive tones: “A—a—and liegemen to—to—” but the desired word would not come.
“To the Dane,” whispered some one behind the scenes in a penetrating voice which reached to the utmost corners of the room.
“And liegemen to the Dane,” responded Marcellus, boldly.
Apparently he had recovered now, and all went well until the time came when the Ghost was to enter. Whether it was the terrifying dread of the nocturnal visitor, or the evident alarm of the four who were conversing so eagerly upon the stage that produced the trouble which followed, is not known; but no sooner had he glided in with his unearthly tread, and no less unearthly glances, which he cast about the room, than Marcellus, in his most awe-inspiring whisper, began, “Peace! Break thee off; look where it comes again;” and then one of the babies in the room began to scream.
Bernardo boldly continued, “In the same figure, like the king that’s dead.”
“Thou art a scholar,” responded Marcellus. “Speak to it, Horatio.”