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will the earth you are standing upon now, doomed
to death like yourself.”
I looked at the ghost and saw for the first time
how old and weary it looked and I would have
felt almost sorry for it had not its threat to strike
me blind roused my anger once more.
“Clear out from here, gloomy old
Undertaker,” I shouted, “there is no chance of a job
for you here, I am full of life!”
“Do you know,” it chuckled, creeping on
the bed and putting its long white arm on my
shoulder, “do you know why you put that fool of a
Vicomte to bed with an ice bag on his stomach?
To avenge the swallows? I know better. You
are a humbug, Othello. It was to prevent him
from strolling about in the moonlight with the
. . .”
“Draw in that claw of yours, venomous old
spider, or I shall spring out of bed and close with
you.”
I made a violent effort to rouse my sleeping
limbs, and I woke dripping with perspiration.
The room was filled with soft silvery light.
Suddenly the scales fell from my bewitched eyes
and through the open window I saw the full
moon, beautiful and serene, looking down upon
me from a cloudless sky.
Virginal goddess Luna! can you hear me
through the stillness of the night? You look so
mild, but you look so sad, can you understand
sorrow? Can you forgive? Can you heal
wounds with the balsam of your pure light?
Can you teach forgetfulness? Come sweet sister
and sit down by my side, I am so weary! Lay
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