'
'But as a man of honour, ma'am,' said the blind man, striking himself on
the breast, 'whose credentials must not be disputed, I take leave to say
that I WILL mention that gentleman's name. Ay, ay,' he added, seeming
to catch with his quick ear the very motion of her hand, 'but not aloud.
With your leave, ma'am, I desire the favour of a whisper.'
She moved towards him, and stooped down. He muttered a word in her
ear; and, wringing her hands, she paced up and down the room like one
distracted. The blind man, with perfect composure, produced his bottle
again, mixed another glassful; put it up as before; and, drinking from
time to time, followed her with his face in silence.
'You are slow in conversation, widow,' he said after a time, pausing in
his draught. 'We shall have to talk before your son.'
'What would you have me do?' she answered. 'What do you want?'
'We are poor, widow, we are poor,' he retorted, stretching out his right
hand, and rubbing his thumb upon its palm.
'Poor!' she cried. 'And what am I?'
'Comparisons are odious,' said the blind man. 'I don't know, I don't
care. I say that we are poor. My friend's circumstances are indifferent,
and so are mine.
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