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The Midnight Queen [65]

By Root 2013 0
the window and wait for him.

Ah! she might wait - much good would it do her; about that time

he would probably be - where? It was a rather uncomfortable

question, but easily answered, and depressed him to a very

desponding degree indeed.



He thought of Ormiston and La Masque - no doubt they were billing

and cooing in most approved fashion just then, and never thinking

of him; though, but for La Masque and his own folly, he might

have been half married by this time. He thought of Count

L'Estrange and Master Hubert, and become firmly convinced, if one

did not find Leoline the other would; and each being equally bad,

it was about a toss up in agony which got her.



He thought of Queen Miranda, and of the adage, "put no trust in

princes," and sighed deeply as he reflected what a bad sign of

human nature it was - more particularly such handsome human

nature - that she could, figuratively speaking, pat him on the

back one moment, and kick him to the scaffold the next. He

thought, dejectedly, what a fool he was ever to have come back;

or even having come back, not to have taken greater pains to stay

up aloft, instead of pitching abruptly head-foremost into such a

select company without an invitation. He thought, too, what a

cold, damp, unwholesome chamber they had lodged him in, and how

apt he would be to have a bad attack of ague and miasmatic fever,

if they would only let him live long enough to enjoy those

blessings. And this having brought him to the end of his

melancholy meditation, he began to reflect how he could best

amuse himself in the interim, before quitting this vale of tears.

The candle was still blinking feebly on the floor, shedding tears

of wax in its feeble prostration, and it suddenly reminded him of

the dwarf's advice to examine his dark bower of repose. So be

picked it up and snuffed it with his fingers, and held it aloof,

much as Robinson Crusoe held the brand in the dark cavern with

the dead goat.



In the velvet pall of blackness before alluded to, its small, wan

ray pierced but a few inches, and only made the darkness visible.

But Sir Norman groped his way to the wall, which he found to be

all over green and noisome slime, and broken out into a cold,

clammy perspiration, as though it were at its last gasp. By the

aid of his friendly light, for which he was really much obliged -

a fact which, had his little friend known, he would not have left

it - he managed to make the circuit of his prison, which he found

rather spacious, and by no means uninhabited; for the walls and

floor were covered with fat, black beetles, whole families of

which interesting specimens of the insect-world he crunched

remorselessly under foot, and massacred at every step; and great,

depraved-looking rats, with flashing eyes and sinister-teeth, who

made frantic dives and rushes at him, and bit at his jack-boots

with fierce, fury. These small quadrupeds reminded him forcibly

of the dwarf, especially in the region of the eyes and the

general expression of countenance; and he began to reflect that

if the dwarf's soul (supposing him to possess such an article as

that, which seemed open to debate) passed after death into the

body of any other animal, it would certainly be into that of a

rat.



He had just come to this conclusion, and was applying the flame

of the candle to the nose of an inquisitive beetle, when it

struck him he heard voices in altercation outside his door. One,

clear, ringing, and imperious, yet withal feminine, was certainly

not heard for the first time; and the subdued and respectful

voices that answered, were those of his guards.



After a moment, he heard the sound of the withdrawing bolts, and

his heart beat fast. Surely, his half-hour had not already

expired; and if it had, would she be the person to conduct him to

death? The door opened; a puff of wind extinguished his candle,

but not until he had caught
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