My friend eyed me brightly and busily as a starling. "You danced fine,
sir," he said. "Oh! it is a _pleasure_ to me. Ay, and now I come to
consider it, methought I did hear hoofs behind me that might yet be
echo. No, but I did _not_ think: 'twas but my ear cried to his
dreaming master. Ever dreaming; God help at last the awakening! But
well met, well met, I say again. I am cheered. And you but just in
time! Nay, I would not have missed him for a ransom. So--so--this leg,
that leg; up now--hands over down we go! Lackaday, I am old bones for
such freaks. Once!... '_Memento mori_!' say I, and smell the shower
the sweeter for it. Be seated, sir, bench or stool, wheresoever you'd
be. You're looking peaked. That burden rings in my skull like a
bagpipe. Toot-a-tootie, toot-a-toot! Och, sad days!"
We devoured our meal of cold meats and pickled fish, fruit and junket
and a kind of harsh cheese, as if in contest for a wager. And copious
was the thin spicy wine with which we swam it home. Ever and again my
host would desist, to whistle, or croon (with a packed mouth) in the
dismallest of tenors, a stave or two of the tune we had danced to,
bobbing head and foot in sternest time.
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