There was a throbbing in my brain; yet I had need of a cool head.

With a spring I was on my feet.
"I'll go and ask if Mistress Barbara sleeps," I stammered.

"I fear she may not be well attended." "You'll go again?
Once scorned, you'll go again, Simon?
Well, the maid will smile; they'll make a story of it among themselves at their supper in the kitchen." The laugh of a parcel of knaves and wenches! Surely it is a small thing! But men will face death smiling who run wry-faced from such ridicule.

I sank in my chair again.

But in truth did I desire to go?
The dead rise, or at least there is a voice that speaks from the tomb.