The countess, glad to end a painful interview, recalled her attendants.
“Permit me, gracious Countess,” said Musdœmon, as he withdrew, “to retain a hope of seeing you to-morrow, and to lay at your feet my homage and sincere respect.”
VIII.
It cannot be but thou hast murdered him;
So should a murderer look; so dead, so grim!
Shakespeare: Midsummer Night’s Dream.
“UPON my honor, old man,” said Ordener to Spiagudry, “I began to think that the corpses who lodge in this building would have to open the door.”
“Excuse me, sir,” replied the keeper, in whose ears the names of king and viceroy still rang, as he repeated his trite excuse, “I was—I was sound asleep.”
“Then I suppose your dead men do not sleep, and it was probably they whom I heard talking just now.”
Spiagudry was confused.
“You—stranger,—you—heard?”
“Oh, yes! but what does it matter? I did not come here to meddle with your affairs, but to interest you in mine. Let us go inside.”