“Methought I overheard just now,
A most unusual clamor here,
A soldier—and my guardian—too,
There’s something much amiss I fear.”
“I am Lindoro.” Thus the drunken soldier, in a soft, delicate voice, suited to—love-making.
“Oh,” she cried, which caused the old guardian to start, and look up. At her he ran like a mad bull.
“Go along—girl—go along!”
“And, faith I, marshall, aye, and doctor too, will e’en go with her.”
“Indeed you won’t.”
“My quarters, sir, are here.”
He reeled towards her, but his voice was far from thick, in fact, deliciously soft, as he whispered, “Dearest, dearest!”
“Help,” she screamed, but her glance was quite kind, nevertheless.
Meanwhile, the guardian was spluttering wildly—“Zounds, sir, stand off.”