Servadac suddenly started from his seat, and as he paced the room with all the frenzy of poetic inspiration, read out:
“Empty words cannot convey
All a lover’s heart would say.”
“Well, to be sure, he is at his everlasting verses again!” said Ben Zoof to himself, as he roused himself in his corner. “Impossible to sleep in such a noise;” and he gave vent to a loud groan.
“How now, Ben Zoof?” said the captain sharply. “What ails you?”
“Nothing, sir, only the nightmare.”
“Curse the fellow, he has quite interrupted me!” ejaculated the captain. “Ben Zoof!” he called aloud.
“Here, sir!” was the prompt reply; and in an instant the orderly was upon his feet, standing in a military attitude, one hand to his forehead, the other closely pressed to his trouser-seam.
“Stay where you are! don’t move an inch!” shouted Servadac; “I have just thought of the end of my rondo.” And in a voice of inspiration, accompanying his words with dramatic gestures, Servadac began to declaim:
“Listen, lady, to my vows—
O, consent to be my spouse;
Constant ever I will be,
Constant....”
No closing lines were uttered. All at once, with unutterable violence, the captain and his orderly were dashed, face downwards, to the ground.