"O dear! the medicine!"
"Yes, dear aunt; but you must not talk or make the least exertion, for you will certainly get the black cataract if you do."
"This will not do," thought I; "for if she has not eyes, she has ears, and good ones too."
After a few minutes, I sat down beside her and felt her pulse.
"You must know, dear aunt, that we oculists have ascertained by anatomy that the ears and nose serve, like garret windows, to communicate fresh air to the nerves of the eyes. When, however, the nerves are in a state of inflammation, the danger is, that the air, passing through all these windows at once, may occasion a draught, which would irritate the inflammation; and therefore, according to Doctor Smilax, on such occasions one of the passages must be stopped with cotton. So now, dear aunt, you may have your choice; which do you consider the most convenient to have closed up—the nose or the ears?"
She naturally preferred dispensing with her ears. And now, at last, this living house Statuarium was not only blind, but deaf and dumb too, and for the first time in her life she left her fellow-creatures in peace.
And thus days glided by—centuries of bliss they might have been, for aught I knew or cared. Mistress Debora was still under strict medical discipline, and my little Esztike was as good as she was lovely; and I—I don't wish to praise myself. Sufficient to say, we were happy, and forgot all but our own happiness, as if it were to last for ever; but alas! when does a man in love ever think of the future?
One evening, later than usual, as I was still sitting beside Esztike (I could not tear myself away, and besides, it was raining hard), I thought I heard some person knocking at the outer door, but took no notice of it; for, with my little dove by my side, what cared I if the world were falling to pieces around us? The old clock ticked cheerfully; and Esztike and I had so many pretty things to say about nothing, as we sat together on the same seat (the old black leather sofa), and consequently not very far apart.
All at once we heard a noise in the kitchen.
"Holy Saint Stephen! it may be thieves!" cried Esztike trembling, and drawing still closer to me.