So it may be supposed that both were gratified.
The next moment she had recommenced her sail round the room: but by this time the doctor had run up to the don and deftly turned him away from this affectionate little duet of soft words.
“My goodness, don, what a pulse—eighty, ninety, one hundred and twenty, twenty-five—Don Pasquale you must straightway go to BED!”
CHAPTER IV.
The don’s pulse was moderate by a late hour the next day; and having obtained the permission of the doctor, who had sedately watched all night by the bed, to go down stairs, the poor gentleman crept down as though he had never danced in all his life.
And what a sight when he reached that drawing-room of his! To the right, dresses; to the left, dresses; in front, band-boxes; behind, the same; lace, bobbins, furs, scarfs, shoes, gloves and—bills! a large number, all in a nice little heap in the centre of the table. He sat down in the middle of all this invasion, and stared about him as though he was anybody else in a strange place, rather than Don Pasquale.
He was still sitting staring about when a hairdresser passed quickly through the room. The next moment a lady’s maid appeared at the door. “Good gracious,” said she, “ain’t my lady a scolding—do be quick with the diaments!”
“Please, miss,” said a second servant to the lady’s maid, “here’s the milliner.”
“Then let the milliner come quick.”