Ainnle and Deirdre slammed the door, and he stood with his back leaning against it, staring as it were inwardly, and listening with every pore of his body. Deirdre threw her arms about his neck.
“O Ainnle! dear Ainnle!”
“It is lonely here,” he muttered.
Her head drooped on his breast.
“Do not faint, sister; the door has yet to be opened, and you must help with the bolts. Hear those clowns roaring!”
“If our own men would but shout once!” she moaned.
“I should open the door immediately,” he smiled, “and this noble combat would have a stupid end.”
“To-morrow will never come,” she moaned.
“Do not make my teeth chatter,” said Ainnle.