"
"You have heard all now," said Thord, as he laid aside the parchment
scroll; "Are you still willing to take the oath?"
"Entirely so!" rejoined Pasquin Leroy cheerfully; "You have but to
administer it."
Here a man, who had been sitting in a dark corner apart from the table,
with his head buried in his hands, suddenly looked up, showing a thin,
fine, eager face, a pair of wild eyes, and a tumbled mass of dark curly
hair, plentifully sprinkled with grey.
"Ah!" he cried,--"Now comes the tragic moment, when the spectators hold
their breath, and the blue flame is turned on, and the man manages the
lime-light so that its radiance shall fall on the face of the chief
actor--or Actress! And the bassoons and 'cellos grumble inaudible
nothings to the big drum! Administer the oath, Sergius Thord!"
A smile went the round of the company.
"Have you only just wakened up from sleep, Paul Zouche?" asked Zegota.
"I never sleep," answered Zouche, pushing his hair back from his
forehead;--"Unless sleep compels me, by force, to yield to its coarse
and commonplace persuasion. To lie down in a shirt and snore the hours
away! Faugh! Can anything be more gross or vulgar! Time flies so
quickly, and life is so short, that I cannot afford to waste any moment
in such stupid unconsciousness. I can drink wine, make love, and kill
rascals--all these occupations are much more interesting than sleeping.
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