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Ladie, in breefe, my fate doth now intend The period of my daies to have an end: Waste not on me thy pittie, pretious Faire: Rest you in much content; I, in despaire!"' A solemn silence followed the close of the recital, which De Stancy improved by turning the point of the sword to his breast, resting the pommel upon the floor, and saying:-- 'After writing that we may picture him turning this same sword in this same way, and falling on it thus.' He inclined his body forward as he spoke.
'Don't, Captain De Stancy, please don't!' cried Paula involuntarily.
'No, don't show us any further, William!' said his sister.

'It is too tragic.' De Stancy put away the sword, himself rather excited--not, however, by his own recital, but by the direct gaze of Paula at him.
This Protean quality of De Stancy's, by means of which he could assume the shape and situation of almost any ancestor at will, had impressed her, and he perceived it with a throb of fervour.