Here there sounded a terrible tramp which shook the mansion.
“Preserve us, saints; what is that my master?”
Again the awful sound broke over the house.
“’Tis a wondrous uncouth noise, Leporello!”
Again the sound came, like the footsteps of an iron-shod giant.
“Go thou to the door.”
Yet once more the footsteps sounded. Nearer now.
The servant ran from the room and then came staggering back, shutting the folding doors after him, as though for safety.
“Help, master! help! methinks I am dying!”
Yet once more the sound was heard. Then a summons at the door of the room called the don’s attention.