So I showed as little as possible of my real feelings, and shut my eyes at intervals as if bewildered.

Then he cried out just as the gray-beard on the ledge had done.
The overture to Leonore ceased.

The colors gave place to the restful golden light.

King had not collapsed yet, and his usual Spartan self-mastery prevented him then from betraying much in the way of symptoms.

So I clutched my head and tried to look all-in, which gave me a chance to whisper to King under my arm.
"Can you hang on ?" "Dunno.