How now, Firmilian!—I am scant of breath;
These steps have pumped the ether from my lungs,
And made the bead-drops cluster on my brow.
A strange, unusual rendezvous is this—
An old saint’s pillar, which no human foot
Hath scaled this hundred years!
Firmilian.
Aye—it is strange!
Haverillo.
’Faith, sir, the bats considered it as such: