Chapter 187 of 1964 · 55 words · ~1 min read

CLXXIII.

Now, Don Alfonso entering, but alone, Closed the oration of the trusty maid: She loitered, and he told her to be gone, An order somewhat sullenly obeyed; However, present remedy was none, And no great good seemed answered if she staid: Regarding both with slow and sidelong view, She snuffed the candle, curtsied, and withdrew.